


Gardiner for America

by Rosie J (darthmelyanna)



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, American Politics, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-24 16:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 81,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthmelyanna/pseuds/Rosie%20J
Summary: Seeking a shakeup in Governor Gardiner's troubled Presidential campaign, Will Darcy goes looking for a new spokesperson and finds Elizabeth Bennet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: As this story was inspired by The West Wing (which, for the record, I do not own), I have borrowed a couple elements. First, this story stands in a sort of parallel history. Assume that major world events of the last thirty years have happened, such as the end of the Cold War. Events specific to the United States, especially heavily political events, by and large have not happened. Major legislation of the last few decades probably doesn't exist, nor the various politicians behind it.
> 
> Second, in this story's universe, the Presidential election occurs in 2014 (which was the year I wrote and originally posted this).

 

> _GARRISON: Senator Zwillick is looking more and more like a sure thing. There's no one else in the Democratic field who can compete in fundraising or endorsements._
> 
> _WYATT: Yeah, but money and endorsements don't always—_
> 
> _GARRISON: Who would you back to beat him?_
> 
> _WYATT: Just to name a few, Senator Kline, Governor Gardiner—_
> 
> _GARRISON: I'm sorry, who?_
> 
>   * _CNN, June 23, 2013_
> 


  
Politicians were a superstitious lot by nature. There was so much outside their control that they were worse than baseball players. Just as a pitcher couldn't account for a sudden shift in the wind, even the best political operative couldn't keep a campaign focused forever. It had been a bad month for Gardiner for America, and Will Darcy, the relentlessly logical Will Darcy, was starting to believe they were cursed.  
  
It started when one of their opponents—it didn't matter which, the guy would be gone before the Iowa state fair—leaked the medical records of Margaret Gardiner, only it was some dentist in Seattle, not the candidate for President. Dr. Marge Gardiner in Seattle was probably losing clients left and right now that her frequent stints in rehab were national news, but for two days the Gardiner campaign was forced to deny at the top of their lungs what looked like a candidate with a massive drug problem.  
  
Every few days since had brought more bizarre and uncontrollable twists, somehow made worse by a spokesman with absolutely no idea what he was doing. The campaign was going into a death spiral, and Will's only consolation was that once the Gardiner campaign was out of the picture, it would be some other campaign's turn to deal with an extraordinary string of bad luck.  
  
"We need a new spokesman," Chuck Bingley said,  _sotto voce_ , as they walked out of the New Hampshire office. "I hate to say it, but Jake Goulding is just not up for the big leagues."  
  
"I could have told you that two months ago when we hired him," Will muttered. "In fact, I did tell you that two months ago. Why does no one listen to me?"  
  
"Because we'd been at this three months and we still didn't have a spokesperson, man," Chuck reminded him. "You're not allowed to say no to everything."  
  
"Well, that's completely unreasonable."  
  
As they entered the coffee shop, Chuck laughed.  
  
Conveniently, Jake Goulding woke the next morning with laryngitis—actual laryngitis, not excuse laryngitis—and couldn't brief. Two days later Chuck announced that Jane Bennett had found Jake passed out in the hotel restaurant and taken him to the hospital that morning. "Strep throat?" Will said to Jane, when she called to update him. "He's got strep throat?"  
  
"Pretty bad, too," Jane told him. "The doctor says he's going to be fine, but it'll be a few days."  
  
"Oh, that's fantastic."  
  
"Will, it's not the end of the world. Chuck can..."  
  
"No, I'm serious. This is fantastic."  
  
"Will!"  
  
"Look, I'm sorry, but we're heading to Des Moines tonight. We have to have a new spokesperson and this is the perfect excuse to get one."  
  
"So you're just firing Jake."  
  
"No, he can stay here, work media for the northeast. But now we get to find a spokesperson who knows how the mics work."  
  
"You should be nicer, William."  
  
"That doesn't seem very likely, Jane."  
  
"I'm just saying, he works hard and he was hired for a reason."  
  
"He was hired because no one listens to me."  
  
So Will holed up in what passed for his office and emailed his uncle Jim, who to the wider world was known as the senior Senator from California, James Fitzwilliam.  


 

> To: jimfitz49@matlock.com  
>  From: fwdarcy78@matlock.com  
>  Re: Press question  
>  June 29, 2013 at 8:32 AM
> 
> Uncle Jim,
> 
> Looks like we need a new spokesperson. I know you're not endorsing for a while, but have you got any recommendations? National experience preferred, but at this stage I'll take someone who can think of the right prepositions on the fly.
> 
> Any help would be a godsend.
> 
>  
> 
> To: fwdarcy78@matlock.com  
>  From: jimfitz49@matlock.com  
>  Re: Press question  
>  June 29, 2013 at 8:49 AM
> 
> Elizabeth Bennet. She was a deputy on my last reelection. She filled in for a few days when Juan's wife had the baby, right as the Cencal fiasco was breaking. She's good, very good. I don't think she's worked a national, but I'm surprised one of you yahoos hasn't hired her yet.
> 
> Should be some footage of her on the fitzwilliamforCA YouTube account. If you don't hire her, William, you're an idiot.
> 
>  
> 
> To: jimfitz49@matlock.com  
>  From: fwdarcy78@matlock.com  
>  Re: Press question  
>  June 29, 2013 at 8:55 AM
> 
> Thanks. I just watched a couple videos. She's not bad, but I wish there weren't such a dearth of public speaking skills in the Democratic Party.
> 
>  
> 
> To: fwdarcy78@matlock.com  
>  From: jimfitz49@matlock.com  
>  Re: Press question  
>  June 29, 2013 at 9:06 AM
> 
> Just how much of a snob are you, kid? Watch the earliest video on Cencal and tell me she isn't brilliant.

  
Will couldn't spend all day trading email with his uncle, so he watched the rest of the videos with Elizabeth and sighed at the end. He wrote a quick message to Jim to thank him again. "She'll have to do," he wrote. "I don't have the time to do a lot of soul-searching."  
  
Later he was going to regret his choice of words.  
  
While everyone else was on to Des Moines, Jane booked a flight to California for him. "You're not related to this woman, are you?" he asked her when he got on the road.  
  
"We're only sorority sisters," Jane said. "There were three of us in our pledge class with the same last name, only none of us spelled it the same."  
  
Will was halfway to Boston before he wondered how else you spelled Bennett if it wasn't Bennet.  
  
He hadn't been to California in almost a year, since his aunt Alice's birthday the previous summer. Los Angeles was exactly what he remembered, hot, smog-filled, and overcrowded. Will went to grad school in Berkeley but the Bay Area might as well be another planet. If he never set foot in Southern California again, he would die a happy man.  
  
Elizabeth Bennet worked for a public relations firm, dealing primarily with film and television according to Jane. Will knew he wasn't looking at a dilettante, but he wondered why she hadn't stayed with his uncle's office if she was as good as Jim claimed. When he stepped into the firm's lobby, however, he thought he understood. Even if she was only on a junior level here, she was probably making money hand over fist. The columns in the grand foyer were covered in bronze, a gaudy imitation of the Seagram Building in New York.  
  
Will passed through the lobby to the reception area beyond, where he told a young woman he was there for an appointment. After a quick call, she told him how to get to Ms. Bennet's office and he was off again. The office was a floor up, on the west side of the building. It was a long walk, and when he got to 207, he heard voices within. Surprised, he hung back in the corridor.  
  
He'd heard enough of her voice on the internet to recognize Elizabeth Bennet. "Christopher, it'd be different if he had the next  _Princess Bride_ ," she was saying. "I can only do so much for frat boy humor. There's a limited segment of the population who actually finds it funny, and I'm not one of them."  
  
"I thought you never declared defeat, Lizzy," said the other person, presumably Christopher.  
  
"Officially I don't," she said. "I'm handing this one off to Ted because I think he's ready for more responsibility."  
  
They both laughed, and Will found himself smiling. The exp ****ression was quickly wiped from his face, though, not long after she spoke again. "I've got an appointment coming in any minute now," she said, clearing the man out.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah, one of those stupid things you do for an old boss you respect."  
  
Christopher exited and nearly walked into Will, who straightened his spine in deep irritation. He towered over the man, who leaned back into the office and said in a stage whisper, "I think he heard you."  
  
Christopher hurried away, and Will stepped into the doorway, knocking on the jamb. "Ms. Bennet?"  
  
Elizabeth, with cheeks faintly pink, said, "Please, come in." He entered, shutting the door behind him.  
  
They shook hands and Will gave her his card.  "I suppose I should be grateful you respect my uncle enough to take this meeting."  
  
"Yeah, sorry," she said. "I was expecting someone younger who was going to spend the next ten minutes filling this conversation with crude innuendo, if we're being honest."  
  
"You've met my cousin Jeff, I take it."  
  
She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. For his part, Will imagined Jeff would have quite a lot of things to say about the woman in front of him.  She was in a plum-colored dress that wrapped around her slim build in a very flattering way.  Will wasn't up on women's fashion but it looked expensive. Her dark hair was pulled into a low knot. Her makeup was minimal, letting her creamy skin and brilliant eyes do most of the work. This was a woman who knew how to present herself well. He'd thought her unremarkable on Jim's videos, but he'd been very, very wrong.  
  
Fortunately she missed his blatant scrutiny of her. She was engrossed by his business card. "Is there a typo?" he asked dryly.  
  
She shook her head. "I'm wondering what the F in F. William Darcy stands for."  
  
"Why are you..."  
  
"I imagine it's something innocuous but old-fashioned, like Francis, but I like coming up with worst-case scenarios."  
  
Now he was curious. "Such as?"  
  
"Fortinbras."  
  
"That is actually worse than my real name."  
  
This time her smile was more genuine, and she waved him into a chair while she sat behind her desk. "I imagine you're in the market for a new campaign spokesperson. Where did you get the guy with laryngitis, anyway?"  
  
It was a good sign that she already knew about Jake. "Why don't we say the decision making process was flawed and leave it at that?"  
  
She pursed her lips for a moment and moved on. "Tell me about Governor Gardiner."  
  
"Two-term Governor of Wisconsin, eight years as mayor of Milwaukee," Will said immediately. "Went to college on a Navy scholarship. Strong on education, labor, women's rights."  
  
"All the Democratic hotspots," she said lightly. "Also things I already know."  
  
Will paused for a minute, wondering what she wanted. "She gets the job done. Never afraid of compromise, even when it means angering her own party."  
  
Elizabeth leaned forward, and Will tried not to think about how her posture gave him a tantalizing glimpse down the neck of her dress. "Let me put it to you this way, Mr. Darcy," she said. "I don't work on a campaign unless I really believe in the candidate. If I'm going to sell my soul, it's going to be here, where the money is much, much better. I'm not going to work for a candidate who's running for President like it's the next rung on the pay scale."  
  
"Ms. Bennet, we don't know each other," he replied, mirroring her posture. "You're going to have to take me at my word, but I don't work for stuffed shirts either."  
  
She stared at him, considering, then nodded. "You sure you don't need to do some soul searching before you make me an offer?"  
  
He froze. It could be a coincidence, but not bloody likely. "My uncle spoke to you."  
  
"Yes, yes, he did."  
  
"I suppose it was too much to think he'd put in a good word for me."  
  
"Oh, he did that too, but you know the Senator's favorite stock answer."  
  
"Forewarned is forearmed?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
She asked him for a few hours to think about it. Will wasn't entirely pleased by the request, but he could already tell Elizabeth was not going to react well if he started making demands. The spokesman situation had him on edge, more so than usual. He had to take a deep breath and relax.  
  
"I'm getting on a plane in a couple hours," he told her. "In fact, I need to get back to the airport. You know Jane Bennett, right? She can get you a flight to wherever we need you."  
  
"Jane? I thought she was just volunteering in Nashua."  
  
"Yeah, we had her in charge of the phone bank, but there was a thing with the barely-out-of-college girl we had setting up travel and hotels."  
  
"A thing?"  
  
"She was checking out a hotel and tried to expense the party she apparently had with some college friends who happened to be there."  
  
"Wow."  
  
"Jane Bennett just took over advance without being asked. It was three weeks before someone thought to put her on payroll."  
  
Elizabeth smiled at that. "Janie always was too good to be true."  
  
"You know how to get in touch with her?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
He stood for a minute and looked at her, trying to divine whether or not he'd convinced her. He was pretty sure she was going to say no. Later he'd kill Jim for repeating the stupid remark he'd made, but at some point Will might admit he deserved it.  
  
"It was good to meet you, Ms. Bennet," he said. "I look forward to hearing from you."  
  
She shook his hand, looking amused at something he couldn't imagine, but it was probably him.  
  
He got an email from her just before getting on his flight from Minneapolis to Des Moines, and he walked straight into a burly man in a leather vest as he read. "Sorry, sorry," he said, pausing to help collect the bag the man dropped, all the while wondering if he was imagining things.  
  
But no, he'd read right. She'd said yes.  
  
Elizabeth arrived the next morning in the middle of the senior staff meeting. Jane sent him a note, and he excused himself to meet her. He found Jane and Elizabeth talking over each other excitedly and wondered how women could communicate that way.  
  
"Ms. Bennet," he said, and Elizabeth turned.  
  
"Which one?"  
  
Jane laughed. "Nobody here calls me anything but Jane. Look, I have to make sure everything is in order for the Governor's speech this afternoon. Do you two promise not to murder each other for now?"  
  
Will smiled. "You know my feelings on murder, Jane. I don't have time to work up a homicidal rage."  
  
"I would have thought the red tape would be the deterrent," Elizabeth said, regarding him coyly.  
  
He shrugged. "If I did murder someone, I suspect I'd have plenty of time for the red tape afterward."  
  
Jane looked between them warily. "I'm going to let you two continue flirting over disturbing subjects on your own, okay? Lizzy, we'll talk tonight."  
  
Elizabeth opened her mouth but said nothing as Jane walked away. Will stood staring at her for a minute, then cleared his throat. "You should come to this meeting," he said. "I'll introduce you to the candidate and senior staff."  
  
She reached for her suitcase but he beat her to it. "We can leave your bags at my desk. I don't know where you'll be yet."  
  
She made a face he couldn't parse but offered no objections. They left her bags behind his desk and went back to the meeting. They stood in the back, Will waiting for an opening in the analysis of the latest Gallup poll, but he was beaten to it when Governor Gardiner looked up and saw them. "Lizzy Bennet!" she said. "Richard said you were coming. Get over here!"  
  
Startled, Will looked at her and saw a fleeting, smug smile directed at him. The others let her through and the Governor kissed Elizabeth's cheek. Meanwhile Richard Fitzwilliam moved to Will's side. "I take it Dad didn't tell you she interned for the Governor."  
  
"She told me she didn't know her."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Will thought back over the conversation in her office and frowned. "I suppose she never came out and said it."  
  
"There you go, making assumptions."  
  
"You could have told me."  
  
"I know, but I'm your boss, Will. There's very little I have to tell you."  
  
By then Elizabeth was asking about the Gardiner family. "Is Dr. Gardiner around somewhere? I'd love to say hello."  
  
"He's in Madison right now, but he's bringing the kids down for the weekend. He'll be thrilled to see you again too." Then the Governor turned to the staff. "I imagine you met Richard Fitzwilliam on his dad's campaign, but he's running the show here, and you've already met Will Darcy, of course. That just leaves Charlotte Lucas and Chuck Bingley. Guys, Elizabeth Bennet, our new spokeswoman."  
  
Elizabeth shook hands with everyone, and the meeting was effectively over. Will went to his desk and got back to work, reviewing the afternoon's speech one more time. A few minutes later, Elizabeth knocked on the cubicle wall and came in. "I'm here for my stuff."  
  
"Right, sure," he said, standing up and feeling like he filled the space more than usual as he towered over her.  
  
He grabbed the duffel bag and passed it over the desk to her, fully intending to help her with the suitcase, but when she could reach it, she took it from him. "I'll take it from here, thanks."  
  
"Elizabeth," he said, and she stopped.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You led me to believe you knew nothing about Governor Gardiner."  
  
She hesitated a moment. "I did."  
  
"So your little speech about selling your soul was..."  
  
"Yes. It was about selling my soul to you." She set the suitcase down and sighed. "You're the one I'll be working for. You're the Governor's voice in the campaign. The easiest way to figure out if I could work for you was to figure out what you think about the candidate."  
  
He hated being lied to, even like this, even when he could understand her motives. He'd jumped on board without a second thought when Richard came to him, but he loved his cousin like a brother and would trust him with his life. Elizabeth had only a biased recommendation from his uncle to go on.  
  
"So there's one more thing I don't understand," Will said, watching her pick up the case again. "If you're as good as Jim says, why aren't you still working for him?"  
  
"How is it any of your business?"  
  
"I'm gauging your level of commitment. How am I to know you won't bail on us when the next PR firm comes calling?"  
  
Her nostrils actually flared. "If you must know, the Senator offered, but I wanted to get my master's and I didn't feel like I could give school and that job the attention either needed. Schierson and Clark gave me flexibility, and that let me go to grad school and have health insurance and money for food all at the same time."  
  
"We've really got to do something about the cost of education in this country."  
  
"Don't try to sweet-talk me, Darcy," she retorted, her voice laden with sarcasm.  
  
He rolled his eyes as she left. "Wouldn't dream of it."  


* * *

  
The hotel had no vacancy. Lizzy wound up staying the first night in Jane's room. They'd been best friends for ten years, since they were assigned to the same dorm room as freshmen. This night reminded Lizzy more than a little of her first night away from home.  
  
"So how's your mom?" Jane asked, after they'd talked over strings of bad dates, Lizzy's idiotic clients, and Jane's sudden rise in the Gardiner campaign.  
  
"She's two years in remission," Elizabeth replied. "Writing again too. Her latest book is due out in a couple weeks, actually."  
  
"That's great," Jane said, smiling. "I know it was rough when she was diagnosed."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
What she'd told Darcy earlier about her career decisions had been true but there was more to it. Her mother was diagnosed with lung cancer in October of the Fitzwilliam campaign. Fran Bennet's book sales had been down for a while and she wasn't covered by her husband David's insurance. If Lizzy hadn't gone to work for Schierson, her mother would have gone bankrupt long before her treatment was over.  
  
She didn't like concealing the truth from anyone, and really, if Darcy hadn't pissed her off with the remark about her commitment, she probably would have told him. But he'd gotten under her skin with that, and she could be petty when annoyed.  
  
"So tell me about these guys," she said. "I know Richard, but he's the only one besides you."  
  
"Charlotte Lucas is Richard's deputy. You'll love her, I imagine. Tough as nails but she's willing to compromise for the greater good."  
  
"And she works for Richard?" Lizzy said, incredulous.  
  
"I take it Richard isn't big on compromise?"  
  
Lizzy contemplated it for a second. "Well, in fairness, he wasn't managing the last campaign I worked on. If Senator Fitzwilliam wanted him to swing for the fences, he'd swing for the fences."  
  
"I'm not sure what that means, but okay."  
  
"Okay. So Chuck Bingley?"  
  
"What about him?"  
  
Lizzy blinked. "Are you ducking the question, Janie?" As Jane blushed, Lizzy swung a pillow at her. "You are!"  
  
"Fine!" Jane said, seizing the pillow. "Okay, okay. He's cute, I like him, and I think if the campaign weren't completely insane..."  
  
"It's not going to get any better if we win, you know."  
  
Jane sighed. "I know."  
  
They fell silent for a minute, until Jane started looking at her closely. "Is there something on my face?"  
  
"You're not going to ask about Will?"  
  
"Will?"  
  
"William Darcy, communications director, your new boss."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Jane laughed. "You were flirting with him this morning."  
  
"No, no, I wasn't. You're confusing flirtation with antagonism."  
  
"He smiled at you, Lizzy. Do you know how long it usually takes him to smile at new people?"  
  
"Jane, it's my first day," Lizzy said, flopping back on the bed theatrically. "Stop trying to set me up with  _my boss_."  
  
Jane got up, tossing the pillow back on Lizzy's stomach. "I'm taking a shower."  
  
"I'm checking the wires."  
  
"Are you going to do what you did in college?"  
  
"Get drunk and accidentally make out with your boyfriend?"  
  
"First, I don't believe it was an accident. Second, it happened twice, which is why I don't believe it was an accident," Jane said, digging through her suitcase. "Third, I was talking about your habit of keeping me up all night."  
  
Lizzy was only half listening, already skimming things on her iPad. "For the record, the first time I didn't realize he was your boyfriend," she said. "The second time... I was mad at you, I think."  
  
"Oh, that's right," Jane said, standing up straight. "He was your boyfriend, he dumped you, I went out with him, and then I found you making out with him." The two women looked at each other, smiles barely suppressed. "I'll give you a pass on that one."  
  
"I love you, Janie," Lizzy sang.  
  
"Shut up, please."  
  
The next morning, Darcy arrived at her desk with a cup of coffee. "Peace offering," he said without any greeting. "I'm not sure we've started off too well."  
  
Elizabeth took the cup, along with the creamer and packs of sugar he offered. "Permission to speak freely?"  
  
"I'm not going to fire you for telling me the truth."  
  
She popped off the lid and poured in the cream and sugar. "For a communications director, you're really bad at communicating."  
  
He smiled, and she tried to forget what Jane said the night before. "Yes, but I'm a big fan of irony."  
  
She couldn't help smiling back, at least until she tasted the coffee. "This stuff is revolting."  
  
His smile turned into a grin, and for a heartbeat or two, all Lizzy could think was that he really was devastatingly handsome. "You ready to talk to some reporters?"  
  
"Yeah," she said, trying to recover her composure. "I'm covering the Governor's push for better tech in rural Wisconsin schools and how a national program would affect Iowa."  
  
"You may also get questions about the Senior Care Act in the Iowa legislature."  
  
"I saw that last night. Something about provisions for palliative care?"  
  
"Right. I've got some talking points prepared if you want to see them."  
  
Lizzy wanted to tell him no, but figured she'd antagonized him enough for one week. "Sure."  
  
He handed over the index cards he'd been holding, but as she flipped through them she could sense he was staring. "Is something wrong?" she asked, glancing up.  
  
"No, I've just got a question you may think is odd."  
  
She looked again, longer this time. "I'll try not to hold it against you."  
  
"Jane and the Governor both called you Lizzy," he said. "I was wondering if you prefer to be called that, or Elizabeth."  
  
She shrugged. "Either is fine. Just don't call me Lizard Breath and you're good."  
  
He tilted his head down, looking at her in surprise. "Lizard Breath?"  
  
"I have two very charming stepbrothers."  
  
"Evidently."  
  
She set aside the coffee, gathering up her tablet and the index cards. "Well, I have to go talk to the press. Thanks for the coffee."  
  
"You called it revolting."  
  
"The gesture, then."  
  
To her surprise, he followed her from her desk. "Are we going in the same direction?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No, I'm asking if you've got a meeting in the general vicinity of where I'm going."  
  
"No."  
  
"Okay." There were half a dozen reporters clustered by a vacant desk on the other side of the room. "Well, I'm going to do my thing."  
  
He stopped following her, and Lizzy went up to the reporters alone. Their conversation abruptly stopped, and she smiled. "Hi, I'm Elizabeth Bennet, your new best friend."  
  
They laughed politely, she relaxed a little, and they all got to the point. It had been a while but after a few minutes Lizzy fell into the rhythm of it, questions and answers and follow-ups and jokes. It wasn't until the question of the Senior Care Act came up that the little conference halted.  
  
Lizzy looked at the cards Darcy had given her, and at that moment she realized he had been standing ten feet away the whole time, pretending to read things on his phone. He glanced up when she paused, and she decided to dive in. "You know, my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer about three years ago," she said. "It was a week before my boss was reelected, and the day after the election, I went home to sit with her in an appointment about her treatment options. They weren't sure yet if it would be treatable, so one of the things we talked about was palliative care.  
  
"We went home, Mom called her sister, and I spent the next hour crying, but I am so, so glad her doctors had that conversation with us. When you face a disease like cancer, you need all the information you can get your hands on, and that includes talking about end-of-life options. Not an argument or a debate, just information. And we should help doctors help their patients however we can. The Senior Care Act in front of the Iowa legislature right now is being held up over $500,000 for a pilot program to provide better training to doctors in hospitals to talk to their patients about some of the most difficult decisions any of us will ever have to make. I don't know about you, but when I get that diagnosis, I want my doctor to have all the tools he needs at his disposal, including how to talk to me about death."  
  
The chat wound down after a couple minutes, and Lizzy walked back toward her desk. When she passed Darcy, he trailed in her wake again. "Can I help you?" she asked.  
  
"That was good, but it's not necessary for you to make things so personal," Darcy said to her, keeping his voice down.  
  
"It's health care. It is personal," Lizzy replied. "It's only slightly less personal than God, and possibly guns."  
  
"Please tell me you're for gun control."  
  
"You probably should have asked me that when you were interviewing me."  
  
"Yes, well, it's for the candidate to make things personal," Darcy said, looking like she'd thrown him off. "Your job is presenting the facts."  
  
"Select facts."  
  
"Obviously."  
  
They had reached her desk by then, and she set her things down. "Anything else?"  
  
He leaned against the high cubicle wall. "The thing about your mother," he said. "That's why you didn't keep working for Jim."  
  
"It was part of it," she admitted. "I'd already interviewed for Schierson by then, but it added urgency."  
  
"Lung cancer?"  
  
"Never smoked a day in her life. You said you like irony."  
  
"Not that kind of irony."  
  
"Well, that's a relief."  
  
He was watching her again as if there was something else he wanted to ask. "Well?" she prompted.  
  
"I don't think there's a good way to ask what I want to ask."  
  
"Somehow I don't think that's ever stopped you before." She sat down at her desk and sighed. "She's been in remission for two years."  
  
"I'm glad."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Senior staff in ten."  
  
With a nod he was off, and Lizzy stared at his retreating form. What was  _wrong_  with that man?


	2. Chapter 2

> _It doesn't really surprise me that Iowa became a national focus in primary politics. People in Iowa know how to throw a state fair. I mean, have you seen the butter cow?_
> 
> _Andrew Jefferson, aka The Purple Politic, August 9, 2013_

"Our state fair is a great state fair..."

"Chuck, if I murder her, a judge will see it as justifiable homicide, right?"

"I barely passed crim pro, Will."

"Between that and your sister, I'm beginning to wonder why I hired you."

Lizzy stopped singing long enough to frown at Jane. "Who is Chuck's sister?"

"Representative Caroline Bingley-Anderson," Jane said quietly.

"Oh," Lizzy said, as though she understood.

"Will was engaged to her for about twenty minutes," Chuck said, which earned him a shove from Darcy.

Lizzy jumped ahead several steps to take Chuck's place, while they walked past a booth of quilts. "I have to ask."

"I don't have to tell," Darcy said tersely.

"Then you know where this leads, Fortinbras."

He sighed and stopped, turning to her while Lizzy stopped too. "I don't like talking about myself."

"In six weeks I've figured this out."

With something like a growl, Darcy headed down the path again and Elizabeth followed. They were leaving Jane and Bingley behind but she kept her mouth closed, waiting for him to speak. "I was in grad school, she was in law school. I proposed, and two weeks later I found her in bed with my roommate."

Lizzy blinked. "Wow. That's like something out of a soap opera."

"Yes. I'm assuming you live in a musical."

"Yeah, but a forties or fifties musical, not like _Rent_ or _Les Misérables_."

"There are different kinds of musicals?"

Lizzy was no longer listening. "Oh, look, corn on the cob!"

She grabbed Darcy's arm and pulled him toward the stand and into line. "What are we doing?" he asked.

"You're at a fair, Darcy. Act like it."

"Only if you swear to stop singing."

She didn't agree, but she didn't argue either. For a couple minutes they moved forward in line silently, his tension increasing measurably. He cracked when they were about five feet from the long table. "Why do you do that?"

"Why do I sing?"

"Why do you call me Darcy?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Everyone else calls you Will, but it doesn't really suit you."

"And my last name does?"

"It's—I don't know, it's more dignified."

"You call me Darcy because it's more dignified, but you're force-feeding me corn on the cob that's been dipped in a giant vat of butter."

"When in Rome, Darcy. Oh, but speaking of butter, we have to see the butter cow."

"I'm firing you for this."

"I'd like to see you try."

They'd officially lost Jane and Bingley a while back, so Lizzy was the only witness to the indignity of Darcy and fair food. "You're not big on this kind of thing, are you?" she asked him as they were leaving the line.

"It doesn't thrill my soul, if that's what you're asking." He looked at his watch and added, "We should find the Governor."

They found the Governor in the building with the butter sculptures, so Lizzy got to drag Darcy around to all of them anyway. Governor Gardiner was there with her husband and their kids, and it wasn't long before Lizzy was carrying the two-year-old and Darcy had the five-year-old hoisted onto his shoulders. She'd seen him around the little Gardiners a few times, and it still surprised her to see his ease with them. They were sweet kids but full of energy, and when they were around the campaign, they were so excited to see their mom they could be a little overwhelming.

Not to Darcy, though. For all that Darcy had no patience with adults, he had plenty of it for kids. The Gardiner children adored him, and he'd never even resorted to giving them candy behind their parents' backs. It was very strange.

The Governor walked next to Lizzy as they exited the building en masse, Jack still on Darcy's shoulders. She noticed where Lizzy's attention was and laughed quietly. "For the record, Lizzy, I don't get it either," she said. "As much as he scares adults, kids seem to love him. And he's teaching Jack all kinds of new words."

Lizzy smiled. "You're probably going to regret that."

"Probably."

"You ready to speak today, ma'am?"

"I have to speak today?"

Lizzy rolled her eyes and shifted little Hannah to her other side. "I have to go talk to some reporters," she said. "Mind if I take Hannah with me as a blatant ploy for sympathy?"

Governor Gardiner laughed. "Go."

"What do you think, Hannah?" she asked of the child. "Want to charm the media?"

Hannah grinned behind her pacifier and Lizzy walked off with her.

The Gardiner for America booth was being manned by volunteers, a couple from Wisconsin but mostly local activists. Lizzy was pleased by the size of the crowd, and even more by how many had signed up for the email newsletter. She wasn't privy to the financial state of the campaign, but she'd never been involved in a campaign that didn't want cash in a bad way.

They'd been rising in the polls lately. The six reporters she'd started briefing had grown to fifteen or so. It was early yet and Lizzy wouldn't bank on it, but it was encouraging. Better than the alternative, at any rate.

"Hi, guys," Lizzy said. "Hannah and I are here to answer your questions."

"Hannah, are you enjoying the fair?" Kevin from the Des Moines paper asked.

She giggled at him and pretended to be shy. "No one's buying that, sweetie," Lizzy said. "Hey, let's show them our game. High five?"

"No!" Hannah said, shaking her head vigorously.

"High five or I get your belly."

"No five!"

Lizzy tickled without mercy and the reporters laughed as Hannah shrieked.

After a minute they all calmed down and got to business. "Can you give us a preview of the Governor's speech this afternoon, Lizzy?" a reporter asked.

"It has nouns, verbs, a semicolon or two, and of course, Will Darcy is an old-fashioned guy, so you'll hear some adverbs now and then. I hear he's even a fan of the Oxford comma."

Darcy walked up to them while she spoke, Jack still riding on his shoulders. "I hope you're enjoying yourself, Elizabeth," he said, glaring at her.

"I always do. You do like the Oxford comma, don't you?"

"Bingley and I have an ongoing argument about it."

One of the younger reporters raised his hand. "If you're going to ask what's an Oxford comma, you should go back to your alma mater and demand a refund," Lizzy said.

She was surprised when Darcy chuckled. He leaned down and said, "Carry on."

His baritone voice was low in her ear, and for a second it was the only thing she could sense. He was already probably the most handsome man she knew; it was really unfair that he could send her into sensory overload with two words. She only hoped she wasn't blushing.

"Walk," Hannah said, tugging at Lizzy's necklace. "Bee walk."

"Bee?" one of the reporters said.

"This is not for the record, but Dr. Gardiner still calls me Lizzy B.," she said, while removing Hannah's grip on her jewelry. "I was in his intro to poli sci class at Wisconsin with three other girls named Elizabeth. He had to differentiate us somehow."

Kevin had turned away during this, and Lizzy raised a brow at him. "Did you see a hot girl, Kevin?"

"Do you know if it's supposed to rain?" he asked out of the blue.

"I get mistaken for the weather girl from one of the Davenport stations, but I'm not actually a meteorologist, Kev."

"Look over there," he said, pointing to the west with one hand while fiddling with his phone. "It looks like it's going to rain."

"Looks like wain," Hannah agreed.

* * *

 

Jack Gardiner alerted Will to the gathering clouds in the west. For a minute he just stood there marveling at it. The massive storm, with tight striations in the clouds, loomed not far away, a huge amount of rain falling from it. The top of the storm was perfectly flat, except on its leading side, where it billowed up above the anvil-like top.

"Jack, I need my phone," he said, holding his hand up for it.

The boy had been playing Angry Birds but he complied immediately. Will called Ed Gardiner as soon as he had phone in hand. "Ed, it's Will. Are you and the Governor outside?"

"We're heading inside," Ed told him, almost before Will was done speaking. "Is Lizzy with you?"

"No, but I'll grab her and Hannah. What building are you in?"

A couple minutes later, Will spotted Lizzy and Hannah nearby with a gaggle of reporters. She was looking worriedly at her phone. "Elizabeth!" he called. When she turned to him, he saw Hannah struggling with her. Will got Jack down from his shoulders and said, "Buddy, I need you to take Lizzy's hand, okay? Elizabeth, the Gardiners are heading back to where the butter sculptures were."

Without asking, he took Hannah from her, and Elizabeth looked up at him, rubbing her shoulder for a minute. "Thanks. She was about to take my arm off."

"Jack-Jack, take Lizzy's hand," Will said, looking around for the boy. "Now. I mean it."

Jack looked like he wanted to object but after making eye contact with Will, he grabbed her hand like a lifeline. "I got him, Will," she said. "Let's go."

The crowd, which had been huge and unmanageable all day, was now restless and unnerving. Hannah, unhappy and not at all shy about it, strained against him but Will was undeterred. He could be an immovable object when he needed to be.

He could see over the people around them but he kept looking back, making sure Lizzy and Jack were still with him as they pressed ahead to the building. Finally he reached with his free hand to grab Lizzy's, pulling her forward to walk beside him. "We're still here," she said over the noise.

"I want to keep it that way."

Will hadn't seen any lightning but thunder rolled over them the minute the words were out of his mouth. Hannah screamed and stopped fighting him, clinging to his neck instead. "We're okay, Hannah," he said. "We're going inside, we're finding Mom and Dad."

He was curiously aware, though, of Lizzy on his other side. Her hand was much smaller than his, but her grip was firm as the crowd jostled them. When they got into the building and spotted the Gardiners, he was strangely reluctant to let her go.

He was less reluctant to give Hannah back to her parents. More thunder made her more upset, and nothing but her mother was going to calm her. "Thank you, Lizzy, Will," Ed said, gripping Will's arm briefly. "They weren't too much trouble?"

"No, they were fine," Will replied.

He felt a tug on his hand, and he looked down to see Jack standing between him and Lizzy. "Can I play Angry Birds now, Will?" he asked.

"Depends," Will said. "Are you going to beat all my high scores?"

While Jack deliberated, Lizzy laughed. Will looked up and gave her a small smile.

Their trek into the building turned out to be an abundance of caution. It never even rained at the fairgrounds. After a few minutes they went back outside, where the storm was much further north.

Will stayed several feet back from the Gardiners with Lizzy, but her attention was distracted by something on her phone. "Elizabeth, what is it?" he asked, laying his hand against her lower back for a moment.

"There's reports of a tornado," Lizzy said, scrolling the screen rapidly. "A huge tornado in Donovan."

Their eyes met and Will felt the horror he saw on her face. Donovan was a town of about three thousand. They'd done a town hall forum there the last time they were in Iowa, or maybe the time before.

"How long until the Governor speaks?" Will asked.

She looked at her watch. "About an hour, if things don't get moved."

"She can't talk about education being the great equalizer when we don't know if people are dead ten miles from here."

"I know."

Later, one or both of them would realize they should have called Chuck, since writing speeches was his job, but Lizzy just pulled her tablet from her purse and they started composing some sort of text as they walked. She might not ever be a brilliant speechwriter herself, but she had a good ear, as it were. She helped him avoid anything cliché or overblown, and together they came up with something the Governor could say while everything was so uncertain, before going to the section of the stump speech on a vision for America.

Twenty minutes after the storm passed, the whole staff was gathered in the campaign bus, along with the Gardiner family. An exhausted Hannah was conked out on a seat, while Jack watched a movie with headphones on. The Governor was on the phone with the Governor of Iowa, and the rest were waiting rather anxiously to hear the news.

"There's six dead in Donovan," she announced when she hung up. Will heard Lizzy let out a little pained sound. "To make matters worse, the elementary school is pretty much destroyed. The school year hasn't started yet, of course, but this is going to be a real hardship for them."

Lizzy held out her iPad for the Governor. "Darcy and I jotted down some remarks."

Governor Gardiner read it quickly, then handed the tablet back. "It's very good, but the speeches have been postponed until tomorrow. We have a little more time to finesse the speech. In the meantime I think you can use some variation on that as a statement to the press, Lizzy."

She nodded. "Thank you, Governor."

Jane went to work changing their travel plans, while Chuck and Charlotte began brainstorming some sort of donation drive they could run while they remained in the state. With everyone else occupied, Will stepped back from the group, along with his cousin. "These are good ideas," Richard said. "Good politics too."

"I wasn't objecting," Will replied. "I just don't have much to add. Not my area."

He felt Richard watching him for a minute and Will finally broke. "Your dad does this, you know."

"Where do you think I learned it?"

"What do you want, Richard?"

"You wrote that statement with Lizzy, huh?"

"I happened to be with her. Don't read anything into it."

"Why would I do that? It's not like you've been serious about a woman since..."

"Don't say it."

"Fine, she-who-must-not-be-named. Don't you think you've been brooding about that long enough?"

Will let out a growl, and Richard held his hands up. "I'm just saying, most women aren't like Lady Voldemort. And Lizzy Bennet is as good as they come."

Will wanted to ask why Richard wasn't chasing her. Then again, maybe he didn't want to know.

The death count was revised down to five within an hour, and they decided it was time for Lizzy to talk to the press. Will watched from ten feet away. There was a camera from one of the local stations, and as soon as Lizzy stepped up to speak, Will knew he was going to be seeing this on television for days. She was somehow poised and emotionally charged at once. It was an arresting combination.

"Will Darcy and I were trying to figure out when we were in Donovan," she said. "I finally remembered, it was during my first trip to Iowa, about six weeks ago. I slept that night in Dave and Lorrie Anders' guest room. I'd never met them before in my life, but they had me in their house and fed me breakfast the next morning."

A few of the reporters laughed quietly, and Lizzy gave a wistful smile. "Political campaigns are a disruption to any town, but everyone we met in Donovan was incredibly kind. We can't imagine what they're going through now, but I think we can know they are helping each other, and will help each other as long as it's needed.

"Now is the time for us to repay the kindness Donovan showed to us. We were strangers and they welcomed us without question or complaint. But the great thing about this country is we never have to be told to step up when there's an event like this. For those of you in the area, we want to encourage you to give blood if you can. In the next few days, we're going to hear about how the rest of us can help, whether it's in the form of food or money or time. There are moments bigger than any one of us, but they're not bigger than all of us together. We hope the people of Donovan remember that in days to come, and that all of us step up to do what we can."

She opened for questions, and Will honestly couldn't take his eyes off her. How had he ever thought she was just adequate? She was a virtuoso. And Richard wasn't wrong. She was more than articulate, which was all he'd hoped for in a spokesperson. She was charming, witty, quick on her feet, and as intelligent as anyone he'd ever known.

Richard wasn't entirely right, though. He'd had serious relationships since Caroline, but her brand of betrayal had made her hard to forget. Always a cautious man, the experience left him guarded. Whether he thought about it or not, he always looked for Caroline in the women who intrigued him, knowing he was never going to put himself through that again.

Lizzy didn't remind him of Caroline in any way, though. Even physically they were very different. Caroline was tall and fair; Lizzy was small and dark. Lizzy was also honest and vibrant and transparent, everything Caroline was not.

He put all those thoughts out of his mind now as he watched Elizabeth Bennet talking about a disaster and holding her audience captive as long as she wanted them. He remembered holding her hand earlier, just to keep them from getting separated. It lingered in his psyche, and for a brief moment, he let himself acknowledge Richard was right about other things too.

Lizzy Bennet was fascinating, and Will Darcy was, to his own astonishment, spellbound.


	3. Chapter 3

> _None of the Presidential debates are looking all that promising._  
>    
>  _On the Republican side, the debates are highlighting a rather alarming problem in the party. Listen to next week's debate, and I mean listen. Close your eyes and listen. You won't be able to tell them apart. The base of the party has the candidates in lockstep. As a conservative, I find this troubling. Without substantive differences among the candidates, how are voters to choose one? Either it will become a matter of cult of personality, or voters won't have any passion for the nominee. Neither option looks like it leads to a win in the general election._  
>    
>  _The Democrats present a contrast, to put it mildly. There's plenty of disagreement among their candidates. In fact, there's so much discord that it's hard to imagine how they'll pull out any kind of party unity when the dust has settled._
> 
>   
>  _David Kerr, the_ New York Times _, October 1, 2013_

  
Sometime on the third day of debate prep, Will was resisting the urge to run screaming from the room. He'd worked plenty of campaigns before and even a national, but never this early, with so many primary candidates. He was swiftly learning elections at this level were insane.  
  
Lizzy approached the desk and crouched down beside him. "Should I get you a pillow?" she asked, looking up at him.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You look like you're about to start banging your head on the desk," she answered quietly. "I have to have you on television tomorrow night and I'd rather you didn't look like Richard took a swing at you with a baseball bat."  
  
"That's sweet of you."  
  
She laughed quietly, which drew Charlotte's attention, but Will decided not to care. "This is preposterous, you know," Lizzy said.  
  
"Yes, but apparently it's what we do."  
  
"I mean, eight candidates on a stage for ninety minutes. If we're lucky she gets to talk for ten minutes total. There's no way anything good comes from it."  
  
"It's a threshing floor, I suppose. Winnowing the chaff."  
  
"And if it turns out we're the chaff?"  
  
"Then you go back to Schierson and Richard takes me camping." She raised a brow and he sighed. "You make me talk too much."  
  
She gave him a mischievous smile. "I'll just ask Richard."  
  
She stood and headed off before Will could say anything else. The Governor and Charlotte were talking, and Will let his eyes follow Lizzy as she walked to them. She was the only one aside from himself not dressed very casually today. Neither of them were inclined to dress down, now that he thought about it. Will always felt when he was working he should look the part; he suspected Lizzy dressed as she did because she was often on camera.  
  
The debate went well for them the next night, even if it was a ridiculous exercise and the Governor only spoke for eleven minutes. Fortunately all the train wrecks involved other people. There was a particularly painful exchange between the junior Senator from Colorado and the former Governor of Delaware that had Will thinking this circus would sink the party someday, but at least Margaret Gardiner came out looking like she knew what she was talking about.  
  
Nine days later, there was another debate in Florida, this time for a Spanish-language network. There was a bit of a to-do over the number of Republicans waffling on attending the GOP debate the next night, but Will didn't want to consider the other side of the aisle until he was more confident they would survive the primaries. Right now no one had cast a vote for either side.  
  
The morning before the debate, Will was just pulling his shirt on when there was a knock on the door of his hotel room. Chuck had a habit of getting up early to edit, so Will answered it without seeing who it was. To his surprise, Lizzy was on the other side, holding coffee cups in a carrier and a paper bag. "Elizabeth," he said, his fingers suddenly fumbling the buttons of his shirt.  
  
She looked amused. "You'll just open the door in your undershirt for anyone?"  
  
"I assumed you were Chuck."  
  
"I'm flattered."  
  
"What do you need, Elizabeth?"  
  
"I brought breakfast."  
  
He held the door open with his foot to let her in while he finished buttoning his shirt. "What do you need?" he repeated.  
  
"You don't want to see what I brought for breakfast?"  
  
"I can do two things at once."  
  
She set the bag down on the desk and handed him a cup of coffee. "I brought pie."  
  
"For breakfast?"  
  
"It was that or carrot cake."  
  
"Well, I'd say no, but I make it a point never to pass up pie."  
  
She smiled, the coy look that made him feel fifteen again. "I know."  
  
She'd brought him a slice of lemon meringue and black coffee from someone who knew what they were doing on both counts. "So what do you need?" he asked for a third time, after swallowing his first bite.  
  
Lizzy was leaning against the television cabinet while she drank her coffee. "Have you heard something about a tape?"  
  
"A tape?"  
  
"A video of some sort. Jill from the  _Orlando Sentinel_  asked me yesterday morning, and last night it was Jill and one of the Kevins and the new guy from the  _Chicago Tribune_."  
  
"We've got someone from the  _Trib_  now?"  
  
"Yeah. Anyway, will you let me know if you hear something?"  
  
"Of course. You should talk to Charlotte, though. She hears everything."  
  
"Okay. Thanks."  
  
"You're not going to eat something?"  
  
"I had a scone earlier."  
  
"All right."  
  
She left him with his pie and coffee, and when the door was firmly shut behind her, he let out a long breath.  
  
A month ago, after the Iowa state fair, the Gardiner campaign organized a drive to collect books for Donovan's elementary school, both for the destroyed library and the classrooms. It was Lizzy's idea toward the end of a late-night brainstorming session, while she fought with Will over the last slice of French silk pie. He'd given in mostly because when she looked at him like that, her eyes full of laughter, he could hardly think straight, let alone tell her no. He was spending too much time looking at her, thinking about her, but he couldn't seem to help himself.  
  
At least he understood how much trouble he was in.  
  


* * *

  
In the Miami office, Lizzy went about her usual work, distributing the wires with her notes to the staff and covering the highlights in the morning meeting. Afterward, she followed Charlotte and Richard into the back room. "Darcy told me to bring this to you," she told them. "I'm hearing chatter about a video."  
  
"What kind of video?" Richard asked.  
  
She shrugged. "No one seems to know."  
  
"If you had to guess," he said.  
  
"Gun to my head? Someone's made a nasty ad and it's gotten loose."  
  
"Well, it's not us," Charlotte said. "We don't have the money to make an ad and put it in a drawer."  
  
Richard laughed. "She makes a good point."  
  
"The only campaign with that kind of money is Zwillick," Lizzy said. "Jameson might be stupid enough, but he doesn't have the money."  
  
"Keep on it, Lizzy," Richard told her. "We're going to see all these people tonight, so you might do some recon at the debate."  
  
She frowned. "How do you expect me to do that?"  
  
"You're a pretty girl."  
  
She burst out laughing. "Charlotte, do you believe this?"  
  
"Hardly ever," Charlotte replied. "Richard, you know this is harassment, right?"  
  
"What? It's true!" Richard said, holding up his hands. "Look, I'm a guy. If you came to me asking for information, I'd put out."  
  
"Gross, Richard," Charlotte said.  
  
Lizzy herself was unfazed. "What if I just want to cuddle?" she asked with a wink.  
  
"Wow," he said. "I don't even know what to say."  
  
While Charlotte laughed, Lizzy patted Richard's chest. "I guess all those rumors about Big Rick were unfounded."  
  
As she left the room, he called, "Hey! I didn't say that!"  
  
She was still smiling when she nearly walked into Will just outside. "Oh, hi, Darcy," she said, nearly dropping her phone.  
  
"Good morning."  
  
"Do you make a habit of lurking outside rooms I'm in?"  
  
"I do seem to have impeccable timing."  
  
He was stiff and detached now. He'd been flustered in his hotel room, but she thought he was just tired and surprised to see her there. She couldn't figure out what the problem was now. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"No," he said tersely. "What you do is none of my business."  
  
She felt her cheeks warming. He'd heard her talking to Richard, which for some reason bothered her. This campaign was fairly loose about the line between professional and personal relationships—Richard and Will were cousins, for heaven's sake—but she could imagine he disapproved of romantic entanglements among the troops.  
  
"Darcy, it was nothing," she said. "He's a huge flirt. It's meaningless."  
  
He relaxed marginally but still looked annoyed. "All right."  
  
He walked off, leaving Lizzy wondering what just happened, but she had too much work to do to obsess over it.  
  
Governor Gardiner had another meeting with senior staff over lunch. This was apparently Charlotte's doing, and Lizzy had a suspicion she just wanted to order from the deli they'd discovered the last time they were in Miami. "I don't think I could live here," Lizzy said, gathering up a Cuban and a can of soda, "but I think I could eat this sandwich every day."  
  
"You're from Los Angeles," Charlotte said, "and you don't think you could live here?"  
  
"I'm not from Los Angeles," Lizzy corrected. "I'm from Chicago. Mostly."  
  
"Mostly?" Will asked. "How are you mostly from somewhere?"  
  
"I was born in Geneva, and not the one in Illinois. Meyrin, Switzerland, technically."  
  
Jane and the Governor were the only ones there who knew that, and the others were certainly surprised. "You're Swiss?" Chuck said.  
  
"I have dual citizenship. My father is Swiss, Mom's American."  
  
"Why have I heard of Meyrin?" Will asked.  
  
"CERN. My father is a physicist. He met my mother when he was working at Fermilab, outside Chicago."  
  
"We'll get into more of Lizzy's family tree after lunch," the Governor said, ending that line of conversation. "Let's get down to business. Charlotte?"  
  
"Right," Charlotte said. "I was talking with our tech support guys last night, and I think it's pretty obvious our setup is not really adequate for what's coming. We're collecting data on voters but it's not usable for those of us who can't program."  
  
"I assume you're talking about something more than a website," Governor Gardiner said.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Charlotte replied. "We need a more modern get-out-the-vote operation. It's not enough to know where the voters are anymore. I think we need to look at smartphone apps for our volunteers to use to help organize door-to-door and phone banking and to collate all the data they gather."  
  
"Do we have the money for that?" Richard asked.  
  
"Well, we can't afford a rock star, but we've got some money that could go to this," Charlotte replied. "It's worth it, though. New Hampshire is going to be our battle with Zwillick, and this kind of tool is going to go a long way."  
  
"Because New Hampshire is retail politics," Chuck finished.  
  
"Have you got someone in mind?" Lizzy asked.  
  
Charlotte looked a little surprised. "I've got a list, but do you know someone?"  
  
"Yes, actually. Jane and I went to school with the founder and former CEO of Verity."  
  
"Verity?" Chuck repeated. "Don't they do sports analysis or something?"  
  
"It's one of the things they do," Lizzy said. "Mary sold her shares about a month ago. She said she wants a small project she can really sink her teeth into."  
  
"I'm not sure I like being a small project," the Governor remarked with a smile.  
  
"Oh, don't worry, ma'am. As soon as we're a big project she'll remember she likes being a petty dictator."  
  
Everyone at the table laughed, and the question was settled. Jane would make the arrangements. "Can we go back to interrogating Lizzy now?" Chuck asked.  
  
"I have no objections," the Governor replied.  
  
"What if I object?" Lizzy asked.  
  
"I've decided I don't care, and I'm the petty dictator here."  
  
While the others laughed, Lizzy grabbed another soda.  
  
That evening she was the first from Gardiner for America to arrive at the site, wanting to scout the press room before it was too crowded. The only others there yet were from Zwillick's staff; they were few and far between. Lizzy's clicking heels echoed in the vacant gym, where they'd be spinning during and after the debate. The sound of one of the doors opening startled her so badly she jumped.  
  
"I'm so sorry," said the man who came in. He was tall, impeccably dressed in a blue suit and red tie, not a hair out of place. "I thought this would be empty."  
  
"No, it's all right," she told him. "I was just in here getting a sense of the room."  
  
"Sure."  
  
She expected him to go, but instead he came up to her and extended his hand. "George Wickham. I'm with the Zwillick campaign."  
  
She shook hands with him. "Lizzy Bennet."  
  
"You're Governor Gardiner's spokesperson," Wickham said. "Good to meet you."  
  
"Yeah, you too."  
  
"Hey, are you the one looking for a tape?"  
  
Lizzy blinked. "How did you—"  
  
"We've got a tape," he said. "It was sent to me, and we don't know where it came from."  
  
"Well, it wasn't us," she told him, figuring that much was safe.  
  
"I know. It's about your candidate."  
  
She couldn't imagine what they were being tagged with or who was doing it, but she would have to talk to her bosses before she could talk about it. She glanced at her watch. "Well, thanks for the information," she said, diving into her purse.  
  
Wickham grabbed her arm. She didn't appreciate it but she didn't say anything, just looked at him. "I'm sure you're going to be busy soon, but maybe we could talk about this after? Probably around midnight?"  
  
"I'll have to check with my people," she said cautiously. "I'm not sure what the schedule looks like once our press obligations are through."  
  
"Of course." Wickham released her arm and drew his phone from inside his jacket. "Why don't I meet you at your hotel around midnight? Gardiner's folks are at the Robinson, right?" He must have seen something in her exp ****ression, because he held up his free hand. "We can meet in the lobby. Nothing shady."  
  
Lizzy didn't want to commit to anything. Something was wrong. "I'll find you after the debate and let you know. I wasn't lying when I said I had to check."  
  
"All right. I'll see you later, Lizzy Bennet."  
  
"Oh, let's hope not," she muttered when he was gone.  
  
It wasn't until the candidates' opening statements that she had a minute to talk to anyone. Will Darcy was unoccupied, so she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from people. "Elizabeth, are you having a crisis?" he whispered urgently.  
  
"The tape," she said breathlessly. "I found out who has it, and maybe what it is."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Zwillick's got it. It's about Governor Gardiner."  
  
"You're kidding me," Will said. "You're—no, this can't be real. Who told you this?"  
  
"A guy named George Wickham."  
  
Will's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. "George Wickham?"  
  
"You know him?"  
  
He sighed, his gaze darting around the room. "Caroline knew him better."  
  
Lizzy frowned for a minute before she got it. "Oh. Wow. Okay. We should make sure you don't run into him."  
  
He seemed to shake it off, although to Lizzy he still seemed abnormally tense. "What did he want?"  
  
"He wanted to talk to me about it after the debate. I told him I had to look at a schedule."  
  
Will nodded. "Don't go by yourself."  
  
"I'm going to ask Jane to come with me. She can observe discreetly."  
  
"It'd be better if you took a man with you."  
  
"He's coming to our hotel. We'll just be in the lobby. It'll be fine, Darcy."  
  
Will didn't look like he believed it would be fine, but he dropped the subject. "If he offers you the video, don't take it," he said. "If they don't know where it came from, we don't want it."  
  
Lizzy nodded, and they went back to work.  
  
Debate spin was an exhausting job, requiring almost as much preparation and skill as actually debating. They spent the entire debate and most of an hour afterward expounding upon some answers and deconstructing others. Lizzy had to admit the Gardiner team was better than most at it. Chuck was charming on camera, Charlotte was laser-focused, and Will and Richard had clearly grown up doing stuff like this.  
  
It was half past midnight when she and Jane made it back to the hotel, and despite the fact that Lizzy never managed to talk to Wickham again at the debate site, he was waiting for her in the lobby. Lizzy nodded to Jane, who separated but stayed in the far corner of the lobby. Meanwhile Lizzy went up to Wickham and nodded. "Sorry I didn't catch you before."  
  
"It's all right. Governor Gardiner did well tonight, I thought."  
  
"Yeah, we were pretty pleased."  
  
"She's going to be Zwillick's biggest competition," Wickham said, gesturing her to a nearby armchair. They sat down, and Wickham got to business. "So this tape..."  
  
"Look, I've talked to my people," she said. "We don't want it."  
  
"You don't want to see it?"  
  
"We'll see it when everyone else sees it. You don't know where it came from, so we're not interested."  
  
Wickham smiled. "That's what my boss thought you'd say."  
  
Lizzy felt like the room had suddenly turned upside down. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
"My boss thought you'd pass on it."  
  
"Did you start this rumor about a tape?" she asked, incredulous.  
  
"No, there's a tape," he said. "I think it's pretty amateur, but it exists. But my boss wanted to know how you'd react."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you, Lizzy Bennet, are something else." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't know where Governor Gardiner found you, but Senator Zwillick wants you on his team. As spokesperson and senior advisor."  
  
Lizzy's jaw dropped, and for the first time in ages she was speechless.  
  


* * *

  
Will had seen Wickham at various times in the last few months, when their respective campaigns crossed paths. He never imagined he'd have to deal with Wickham even tangentially. Will did get some primitive satisfaction from seeing the nose he'd broken years ago, but mostly he kept to himself.  
  
Once in his hotel room he propped the door open with his suitcase and sat out of view of the doorway, knowing his room was between the elevators and Lizzy's. The post-debate high wore off fairly quickly for the staff, as most of them were heading for New Hampshire bright and early in the morning. It was nearly one o'clock before he heard Lizzy's voice coming from the elevator, along with Jane's laughter. There was no man's voice with them, so with some relief, he went to close the door.  
  
It was almost shut when the women got close enough for him to understand what they were talking about. "He offered you a job," Jane said, breathless. "I still can't believe it."  
  
"I know! This whole thing was a poaching expedition!"  
  
Will froze, holding the door just barely open. He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop on them, but Wickham had been there to offer Lizzy a job? She was an amazing spokesperson and they were lucky to have her, but Will hadn't expected another campaign to attempt to steal her. Then again, maybe he should have expected it. If they lost the primary, he imagined Zwillick or whoever beat them would hire her before any of the rest.  
  
The voices were moving down the hall, and instead of closing the door, Will opened it a little wider. "It doesn't matter that the money's better," Lizzy was saying. "If I didn't believe in Margaret Gardiner, I wouldn't have come here in the first place. Not even Will Darcy is that persuasive."  
  
"But he's a little persuasive?" Jane asked, while Will's heart was suddenly pounding in his ears.  
  
"A little," Lizzy agreed. "Maybe more than a little."  
  
The women started laughing again and Will closed the door. For several moments he leaned against it, wondering what exactly she meant, what it meant for him, and definitely not thinking about Wickham anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

> _We're six weeks away from the Iowa caucuses and nearly a year away from the general election, so it's time for everybody's favorite kind of statistical analysis: reckless!_  
>    
>  _Conventional wisdom has Zwillick wrapping up the Democratic nomination by South Carolina, but I just don't buy it. The latest Quinnipiac poll doesn't look good for him, and it's not the only one. You heard it here first: the trends are looking better and better for the Governor of Wisconsin, Margaret Gardiner._
> 
> _Hal Preston, www.twoseventy.com, November 25, 2013_

  
Despite his neutral accent and his liberal politics, Will Darcy was in some ways still a Southern boy. He hadn't spent a Thanksgiving in Pemberley, North Carolina in ten years and part of him missed it desperately. There were reasons the family avoided the town and the Darcy homestead around the holidays, but he wished they would exorcise the demons and have done with it.  
  
Instead, he was in Matlock, California, a continent away from his old home. After the months of one hotel room after another, it was strange to be in his aunt and uncle's house, in a room he knew well. In recent months, it had become the people and not the surroundings that were more or less constant. He was used to Chuck knocking on his door early to ask his opinion on a passage, Jane's quiet and unyielding competence, the Governor's uncanny ability to change Will's mind, and Lizzy, always ready for a challenge, even if the next challenge was him.  
  
His uncle and aunt's vineyard was like a monastery in comparison. It was probably what he needed, even if it put him a little on edge to be cut off from the campaign. He wasn't even all that cut off; Richard was here too. But he needed the break, the quiet. They all did.  
  
Matlock Vineyard was peaceful this time of year, even with his cousins' children underfoot. Will spent a lot of time wandering the grounds, sometimes writing in his head but usually just trying to reconnect to something more permanent than politics. Of course, what loomed across the verdant valley from the house made it difficult for him to keep his head out of the clouds.  
  
His grandfather's Presidential library stood on the next hill, like a Greek temple. Will was born in the middle of his grandfather's first campaign, and some of his earliest memories were of the White House. When he went to school he thought he would become a teacher, teach kids to write, but somewhere along the way his ambition changed. After his parents died, he felt the pull to follow in his mother's footsteps. He was too much like his father to want to run for office like Anne Darcy, but he wanted to serve the public. Anne and George Darcy both would have approved.  
  
As he looked over the valley between the house and the library, his aunt approached and laid a gentle hand on his back. "Thinking about the Gardiner Presidential library?" she asked.  
  
"Bite your tongue," he said. "I leave confidence to Richard."  
  
"You two always did make an odd pair," Alice remarked. "So how is it going, really? I know better than to take Richard's account at face value."  
  
"Honestly, it's going better than I expected," he told her as they walked away from the large glass doors. "Governor Gardiner is a good campaigner, but Richard and I are still a little worried that some of the interest in her is just interest in a female candidate."  
  
"She's great in the debates."  
  
Will nodded. "Yeah, much as I hate those debates, they've taken us up to the top tier. We're going to school after Thanksgiving, though. Time to make sure she can talk foreign policy."  
  
"I'm surprised you haven't done that already."  
  
"Well, domestic issues have been taking up enough time the last few months."  
  
"When does Jim finally endorse?"  
  
"Good question."  
  
They walked along in silence for a second, until Alice suddenly said, "Oh, I've been meaning to ask, how's Lizzy?"  
  
Will felt like he nearly tripped. "Lizzy Bennet?"  
  
"What other Lizzy would I be asking about?"  
  
"She's fine," he said in a voice he didn't quite recognize as his own.  
  
Alice nodded, and for a minute Will thought he'd dodged a bullet. But his aunt was nothing if not perceptive. "You know, I've thought for a while you'd be perfect for her."  
  
That time, Will really did trip. If his aunt noticed, she was good enough not to say anything.  
  
Endorsement was the subject when they joined the others in the living room. "The thing is, I don't think your endorsement is going to stop the news cycle," Richard was saying. "If you endorsed someone else, sure, but your favorite son is running this campaign."  
  
For that he got a slap to the back of his head from his twin brother Andrew. "I beg your pardon."  
  
"How do you know I'm not thinking of Will, boys?" Jim said, amused. "He's  _like_  a son."  
  
Will sat down with his sister and rested his arm on the back of the couch, behind Georgiana. "Are they boring you?" he asked.  
  
"No, it's interesting," she said, completely unconvincing. "But you won't mind if Aunt Alice and I start talking about shopping plans for Friday?"  
  
He shook her by the shoulder, but the damage was done. "Georgie, we have to get some color in your wardrobe," Alice said. "Don't you get bored with all that black?"  
  
"I'm a sign interpreter!" Gigi said, laughing. "People have to be able to read my hands!"  
  
"Yes, but you don't work all the time."  
  
"I'm trying to imagine a universe where I have two whole wardrobes."  
  
"Gigi, I've seen your shoe collection," Will said, which earned him an elbow to the stomach.  
  
A couple minutes later, the conversation had moved on to when Rachel, her husband and their kids would be there. Will's phone buzzed in his pocket. He murmured an excuse and headed out of the room while he answered it. "What can I do for you, Elizabeth?" He could feel the eyes of all his relatives boring into him as he left.  
  
"Hey, Darcy," Lizzy was saying. "There's a small problem."  
  
"Actually small, or are you trying to placate me?"  
  
"I leave placating to Jane. We all have strengths; it's important to play to them."  
  
"So what's the small problem?"  
  
"The photographer you hired about ten days ago," she said. "Gina from the...  _Post-Intelligencer_  says she recognizes him. He used to take less highbrow pictures."  
  
"You mean pictures of scantily clad girls."  
  
"Not really clad at all, and women, we're hoping."  
  
"And this is going to be above the fold in Seattle tomorrow?" When she didn't say anything immediately, Will frowned. "Wait, what's-her-name recognized him?"  
  
"Took you long enough," Lizzy said, and he could tell she was smiling. "Gina wants fifteen minutes with the Governor when we swing through the Pacific Northwest after Super Tuesday."  
  
"I'm confused."  
  
"Well, she doesn't want to run that this guy used to take nudie pictures because then someone finds the pictures of her, but she thinks she's giving us a freebie by warning us and she's right."  
  
"Right." Will ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Fire the guy. I'll run the other by Richard, but he'll be okay with it."  
  
"Okay. Should I look at hiring a new photographer?"  
  
"No, you should enjoy your Thanksgiving tomorrow, Lizzy."  
  
"You too, Will."  
  
He hung up and went back into the living room, where silence fell upon his entrance. "So, how is Lizzy?" Jim asked, while all eyes were on Will.  
  
"Lizzy?" Gigi repeated. "What have I missed?"  
  
"You're about to miss Pie Night," he told her.  
  
"You can't cancel Pie Night," Alice said. "Your grandfather enacted this. I think it would take an act of Congress to cancel it."  
  
"I'm not talking about canceling. I'm talking about eating all the pie myself."   
  
As he expected, the outrage that followed quickly distracted them.  
  
That night, after Rachel's family arrived and they all indulged themselves on pie as a pre-Thanksgiving ritual, he caught Gigi before she went to bed. "Something wrong, Will?" she asked. "You've been a little distracted."  
  
"The campaign is crazy, but that's to be expected," he said, pulling her into the alcove at the end of the hall. "There's something we should talk about, Gigi. I've been thinking a lot about Pemberley. Maybe going there for Christmas."  
  
"Really?" Her eyes were wide. "I mean, that'd be great, but I had no idea we'd ever..."  
  
"I know."  
  
Their last Christmas in Pemberley was spent storing decorations and opening the last presents they would get from their parents. Gigi was only twelve when George and Anne Darcy were killed by a drunk driver, and it was all Will could do to hold himself together for his sister. They'd both lived in North Carolina off and on since, but during the holidays, they avoided Pemberley and its environs religiously. There was just too much memory there.  
  
But that was twelve years ago. It was time, past time.  
  
Gigi was smiling tentatively. "Are we going to have everyone there?"  
  
"I don't know. We've got time to make plans."  
  
She hugged him abruptly, and Will held her tightly for a while. "Love you, Gigi," he whispered.  
  
She let go of him, looking up as she stepped back. "Yeah, I'm pretty awesome." Will threw up his hands in mock disgust, and she signed to him, "I love you."  
  
Will used what little American Sign Language he knew to tell her to go to bed already.  
  


* * *

  
"So how was your Thanksgiving, Jane?" Richard asked her, when the campaign finally caught up to her again, two weeks after the holiday.  
  
"Oh, it was great," she said. "Most of the family was there, so it was hectic, but it was fun."  
  
"You have fun everywhere," he teased.  
  
"I suppose."  
  
He smiled back at her. "Nice work in Portland, by the way. That money should let us hire someone to help out with scheduling and advance."  
  
"I just showed up at the fundraiser and took their money, Richard."  
  
"The people I talked to were very impressed."  
  
Uncomfortable with the praise, Jane merely nodded.  
  
They were camped out in New Hampshire now, in what used to be a real estate office. The volunteers were on the ground floor, senior staff in the loft above. With their cups of coffee, Jane and Richard moved to his desk. They were going to review the schedule for the rest of December as it stood now.  
  
They were distracted, though, by the commotion on the other end of the loft. Lizzy and Will were talking, although that was a generous description. Judging by the level of gesticulation, they were coming to the point where passersby would call it an argument. "Are they fighting about pie?" Richard asked, sounding incredulous.  
  
"Unless that's code for something," Jane said. She thought she heard Will accusing Lizzy of arguing just to argue with him.  
  
Richard smiled wryly. "One of these days they're going to snap, and either kill each other or jump each other."  
  
"Let's hope it's not the former. Can you imagine the scandal?" Richard laughed, and Jane smiled. "There's something kind of sweet about it, though," she added.  
  
"About the possibility of a bizarre double homicide?"  
  
"About inspiring that kind of passion in someone. I don't think I've ever done that."  
  
He cast a glance toward the stairs, where Chuck Bingley was taking the steps two at a time. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," Richard said lowly, and Jane blushed. She'd had the occasional thought about Chuck, and even a couple fantasies. They didn't really know each other very well, though, so she was pretty sure Richard was off his rocker.  
  
They finished their conversation about the schedule for the next couple weeks, and Jane went back to her desk. She was only in Nashua until the next afternoon, when she was off for another tour of rally sites and hotel ballrooms, trying to get everything for Iowa, New Hampshire, and South Carolina nailed down before Christmas. She hoped Richard was right, and there would be enough in the bank soon to hire another advance person. She really preferred flying with the team.  
  
Chuck came to her desk a while later, as she was going over the details of the expense report for the campaign's last swing through Florida. "Hey, Jane," he said. "I thought you were off to South Carolina today."  
  
"Tomorrow. It was going to be today, but there's a storm coming through tonight and I'm pretty sure the flight will be cancelled," she told him. "You need something? Juan's luggage got sent to Düsseldorf, so I'm going ten rounds with the airline on that."  
  
"No, I've got all my... Düsseldorf?" Chuck said, laughing. "How'd that happen?"  
  
"I have no idea, but I suspect this story is going to end with somebody going to Düsseldorf."  
  
"I hear Düsseldorf is nice this time of year."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Christmas in Germany?" he said. "Sure. I bet it's great."  
  
"Maybe next year, then."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Chuck was bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet. This wasn't unusual for him—he was generally a bundle of energy—but something seemed different. "You okay, Chuck?"  
  
"Yeah, I just..." He looked around quickly, and spoke just as fast. "I just thought, if you don't have plans tonight, maybe you could get coffee or dinner or something with me."  
  
Jane's hand froze in midair as she reached for a stack of receipts. "Really?"  
  
He gave her a tentative smile. "Really."  
  
"Oh," she blurted out. "I mean—yeah, that—that sounds great."  
  
"Great!" he said, a little too loud. He seemed to startle himself. "That's... That's great." He stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled. His open, friendly look had the girls down among the volunteers drooling over him. "Will's going to have my head on a platter if I don't have notes back to him on the new stump speech by the end of business, so let's say 7:30?"  
  
"That'd be great," Jane said, knowing she sounded completely inane but she couldn't really help it.  
  
"Great," he said, and they laughed together over the demise of their collective vocabulary.  
  
That evening, as she was shutting down her computer and packing up for the night, Richard dropped by. "I hear you and Chuck are going out tonight."  
  
Mortified, Jane froze. "People know about this already?"  
  
"Relax, Jane. He told me himself. He didn't want to get you in any trouble for 'interoffice romance.'"  
  
"I hadn't even thought about that."  
  
Richard grinned behind his coffee mug. "Don't worry about it. I'm just wondering what it is with the women around here and speechwriters."  
  
"You really think Lizzy and Will..." She trailed off, not knowing how to articulate it.  
  
He shrugged. "I wouldn't have thought she was his type, but it's hard to ignore the possibility."  
  
Jane frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Watch him sometime when she's in the room. He can't look away from her." He paused, looking at the assortment of papers she was gathering up. "What about Lizzy? Is Will her type?"  
  
Jane bit her lip for a minute. "I don't know," she said, truthfully. "When we were in college, the guys she went out with weren't normally so... challenging."  
  
Richard laughed. "I can believe that." He rapped her desk with his knuckles twice. "Have fun tonight, Jane."  
  
"Thanks, Richard."  
  


* * *

  
There was half an inch of snow on the ground when Lizzy arrived in Geneva, Illinois, where her mother lived, not Switzerland. Grass was poking up through the snow, actually, a look she'd always found slightly unnerving. She hated the interim, hated waiting for things to happen. The primaries were probably going to kill her.  
  
Her mother was the same way, if she was honest. Inside the seventies ranch house, Fran was spinning all sorts of horror stories for how Lizzy's trip had gone wrong, all of which Lizzy heard about in her first three minutes in the door. She loved her mother, though, and knew all this wild concern was out of love. After the divorce, Fran and Lizzy were on their own for a few years. Lizzy was still in contact with Thomas Bennet and on good terms, but he was more like a distant uncle than a real father.  
  
Once Fran was done hugging her and incorrectly prophesying her demise, Lizzy hugged her stepfather, David, who was rolling his eyes. "Good to see you, Princess," he said quietly, kissing her cheek. "Your flight okay?"  
  
"Which one?" Lizzy replied, laughing. "They all start to blend together after a while."  
  
"Oh, Lizzy, sweetheart, Veronica Long says she saw you on the news last night," Fran said. "She thinks you're not eating well enough."  
  
"Well, I'm probably not, but I don't think Veronica Long can diagnose me on B-roll."  
  
"Dinner's ready," David said, intervening. "Caleb and Joe are..."  
  
"Liz!" squealed a little girl in footie pajamas as she raced into the front room.  
  
David knew when to get out of the way, and Lizzy was pretty sure his granddaughter ruled the kingdom whenever she was around. "Julie!" Lizzy said, scooping her niece off the ground when she was close enough. Julie's mouth was covered in chocolate, so Lizzy raised a brow. "Have you been a good girl?"  
  
Julie shook her head, blonde curls swinging as she laughed.  
  
Lizzy carried the toddler back to the kitchen, following after her mother and stepfather. Her stepbrothers were there, along with Caleb's wife Joanna. Julie squirmed to be let down while Lizzy was hugging everyone. "I'm sorry this has to be such a fast trip," she said as they were sitting down at the kitchen table. "We're ten days to the Iowa caucuses and fourteen to the New Hampshire primary. It's kind of remarkable Richard let anyone go home for two days."  
  
Fran looked a little displeased, but Lizzy didn't confront her over it. She only had forty-eight hours here. Getting into a snit with her mother was a waste of time. "David, what kind of pizza have you made this year?" she asked instead.  
  
"Dates and feta," David deadpanned.  
  
"Really?" Joe asked, which made his father laugh.  
  
"I've made good pizza, kids," David said, heading over to the kitchen counters to get it. "Now let's eat."  
  
Joanna brought the conversation back a little. "Lizzy, what's the difference between a primary and a caucus?" she asked.  
  
"A primary looks a lot like a general election, only your ballot is party-specific," Lizzy replied, going for the pizza with mushrooms and sausage. "You get your ballot, go into a booth, vote, and no one knows how you voted unless you tell."  
  
"Right, so a caucus is...?"  
  
"Completely different. Everyone in your precinct meets in a big room. There's an area set up for each candidate. You stand over in the area for the guy you're supporting or in the undecided area, and then for half an hour you're allowed to try to persuade other people to join your candidate, whether from other candidates or the uncommitted group."  
  
"This sounds intense," David said. "No big state does this, right?"  
  
"No, no," Lizzy replied. "So they count after that half hour. Your candidate has to get fifteen percent, I think, to be considered viable. If any candidates aren't viable, their supporters either go to the undecided group or to another candidate. And you know, I said no big state does this, but in Texas the Democrats have a primary and a caucus."  
  
"That's crazy," Joe said.  
  
"That's Texas," Lizzy corrected, and they all laughed.  
  
After supper was finished and the dishes were washed, they moved to the living room, where Julie played on the floor with her cars and Lizzy told stories of the campaign. Fran asked all the predictable questions about the men Lizzy was working with, and Lizzy was once again faced with the temptation to come home with a girlfriend next time, just to see how her mom would react.  
  
An hour or two later, it was just the two of them sitting in the living room, lit only by the colorful lights on the Christmas tree. "I just want you to be happy, Lizzy," her mother said. "When you were in L.A., you went out with friends and did normal social stuff. You're twenty-eight years old, and now all you talk about is work."  
  
"Mom, it's important work," Lizzy replied. "You know I wasn't really happy with my job in Los Angeles. This is an amazing opportunity to make a real difference."  
  
Fran was noncommittal but let the subject drop. This, Lizzy suspected, was one of the ways in which she was like her father. She didn't imagine it was comfortable for Fran to see that trait reflected in her daughter.  
  
Lizzy stopped talking about work so much the next day. There were plenty of other conversations to be had. Julie had a mountain of presents to open, and there were lots of family stories to be shared. Lizzy talked with her mother off and on all through the day, of little things and big things, trying to find a way to assure her that she was happy with her life right now, even if she didn't have a boyfriend and was living out of a garment bag.  
  
The holiday was over far too soon, but with Iowa only eight days away, she couldn't spend any more time away from the campaign. As it was, she spent a few minutes every hour answering email from reporters or coworkers. The day after Christmas her stepbrother Joe drove her up to Madison, where she joined up with the Gardiners for a two-day trip to New Hampshire, followed swiftly by six days in Iowa.  
  
They spent New Year's Eve in Davenport, and Lizzy spent most of it wishing she had driven home to spend the night there. It was only a couple hours away, after all, and it felt strange not to have made the effort. She called her mother a few minutes before midnight to wish her a happy new year. Fran sounded tired, but wished her luck in the coming caucuses.  
  
Lizzy made the call outside. The staff was having a bit of a party in the Davenport office, making it too loud for a phone call. She stood outside in the quiet for a minute, even though it had started to snow. The door of the office creaked open, and she saw Will coming outside. "Is something wrong?" he asked. "It's too cold for you to be out here."  
  
"It's not that bad."  
  
"I'm from North Carolina. It  _is_  that bad," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't understand why people stayed here after the first winter."  
  
"Well, a lot of them came from similar climates in Europe," she pointed out. "And I've never understood why people stayed in the South after the first summer. Especially when you consider how much clothing they wore back then."  
  
He chuckled quietly. "You have a point."  
  
They stood in silence for a minute, breathing in the cold air. Lizzy always thought this was when snow was at its prettiest, before civilization got at it and it was still sparkling white. The world seemed very quiet, too, even when Will spoke again.  
  
"So what are you doing out here?"  
  
Lizzy sighed. "I was calling my mother. Too loud in there."  
  
"Is she okay?"  
  
"Yeah," she said, not having considered it much. "Still, I... I wish I'd driven over there to see her tonight. I could have come back in the morning."  
  
"You don't want to drive that far on New Year's Eve," he said soberly. "Too many drunk drivers out."  
  
"I hadn't thought of that."  
  
She couldn't comprehend the look on his face, but it was too serious for her liking. "So are you going to stay out here as long as me to prove your manhood or something?"  
  
"I can't be out here to keep you company?"  
  
"Now I think you're just arguing with me for the sake of arguing."  
  
He laughed outright, a rare thing for him, at the reminder of their argument a few weeks ago. He'd been right then, and she suspected she was right now. There was something astounding about this man and their ability to draw each other out. She'd never been so quick to argue with anyone else, nor so prone to enjoy it.  
  
Inside there was a cheer; they both checked their watches and saw it was midnight. "Happy New Year," she said to the man beside her.  
  
He smiled, and her breath caught in her throat for a moment. He was always handsome, but his smile made him more alive somehow, more real.  
  
"Happy New Year, Lizzy," he replied. They looked at each other. For a second she tried to remember the last time she had a boyfriend to kiss her at midnight of the New Year but the thought was too depressing. Besides, she couldn't concentrate with Will looking at her, blue eyes searching her face. His fingers brushed her hair back from her cheek and Lizzy thought she was going to melt right then and there.  
  
They moved toward each other, Will cupping the back of her head and wrapping his other arm around her waist while Lizzy held onto his shoulders. His lips were cold at first, and so were hers, but neither of them was deterred. Instead, Will held her a little tighter and she went up on her toes, shifting her body against his, trying to get closer.  
  
He kissed her slowly, almost tentatively at first, like this was just a kiss to ring in the New Year. But it didn't feel that way, not at all. She gave him every encouragement, sliding one hand to the back of his neck, and he jumped a little at her cold fingers. Their lips separated for a moment as they laughed, but laughter turned to breathless little kisses until finally he coaxed her lips to part. Lizzy moaned quietly into his mouth when his tongue brushed against hers.  
  
The sound of a car door opening startled them out of their embrace, and Lizzy felt her cheeks grow hot as she glanced around in case some one had seen them. Will was looking about restlessly too, at anything but her. She understood the feeling. For a second she wondered if she'd lost her mind, but deep down she knew it would take very little provocation to throw herself at him.  
  
He was handsome, single,  _her boss_ , and a very good kisser.  
  
There was no way this was going to end with her dignity intact.


	5. Chapter 5

> _HASTERT: Every other candidate on the Democratic side has to be nervous about this._
> 
> _RAMIREZ: And Zwillick doesn't?_
> 
> _HASTERT: If Zwillick wins tonight, he's going to run the table._
> 
> _MSNBC, January 2, 2014_

  
Will kissed Lizzy at midnight Tuesday. Thursday night, Iowa caucused and he couldn't bring himself to care.  
  
He snapped at a volunteer coordinator, tore up (literally) Chuck's draft of a speech for that night, and would have yelled at Charlotte in front of the staff if she hadn't dragged him into a room and slammed the door shut. "What is your problem?" she whispered harshly. "We've got eleven hours before we know anything, so will you please get your act together and stop taking out whatever this is on everyone? This is the first time people vote this year, and if you don't calm down right now, I'm sending you to Guam for the remainder of the campaign. Do you understand me?"  
  
"Charlotte..."  
  
She jabbed him in the chest with two fingers. " _Guam_."  
  
The door opened slowly, and Will was unsurprised to see his cousin come in. "Everything okay?" Richard asked.  
  
Charlotte looked up at Will, waiting for him to answer. He turned away, running his hands through his hair as he stared at the messaging board. "Yeah. Everything's okay."  
  
Charlotte and Richard looked at each other for a few seconds in that weird way they had of silent communication. It was annoying on a good day, and this was definitely not a good day. Charlotte left them alone and shut the door behind her. Richard immediately got into Will's face. "Will, either you get a grip or I'm sending you to Kamchatka."  
  
"Well, between you and Charlotte I'm going to see more of the world than I want to."  
  
"Will, you're a brilliant writer, and the Governor has never sounded better than when you're writing for her. But I can't have you..." He stopped suddenly. "Did something happen, Will? It feels like this has been building for a couple days."  
  
"I kissed her, Richard," Will blurted out.  
  
Richard stared. "Tell me you didn't kiss the Governor."  
  
That was enough to startle Will out of his spiral of overthinking. "What are you... no! I kissed Lizzy!"  
  
"Oh," Richard said in obvious relief. "Look, she's a friendly girl. There's no shame in misinterpreting that as..."  
  
"I didn't misinterpret anything."  
  
"Are you sure? You know you're not great at reading people, and you wouldn't be the first one to think she was into you when she wasn't."  
  
"No, I'm—wait—you..." Richard nodded as Will gaped. "You tried to kiss her?"  
  
"I  _did_  kiss her, years ago. She didn't slap me but I thought she was going to."  
  
Will leaned against the desk behind him and let out a long breath. "She didn't stop me. She didn't even seem surprised."  
  
"Well, that's probably a mark in your favor," Richard said. "You're crazy about her, aren't you?"  
  
"Yeah," Will admitted, wondering if he was as transparent to everyone or just his cousin. "Although now I'm feeling weird about this knowing you had a thing for her."  
  
"It was short-lived. I remind her of her stepbrother."  
  
For some reason this struck Will as absurdly funny, and he felt a lot of tension drain out of him as he laughed. "She definitely did not mention her stepbrothers," he said, calming a little.  
  
"Okay. So if I let you back out there, can you promise not to scream at anyone?"  
  
Will stood up straight again. "I didn't scream."  
  
"You made one of our volunteer coordinators cry."  
  
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll apologize. Would flowers be too much?"  
  
"Yes. Get her a cup of coffee. You don't want Lizzy thinking you're into someone else."  
  
It was sound advice, loath though he was to admit it.  
  
There was work to do, though, too much work for him to talk to Lizzy. He felt calmer now when he saw her, so at least there was that. She was working the press like a pro when he and Richard emerged from the back room, and Will smiled a little at the sight.  
  
"I'll say this much for you," Richard murmured. "You've got good taste."  
  
"I have excellent taste," he countered, to his cousin's amusement.  
  
They went their separate ways, Will to placate the volunteer coordinator while Richard made some calls. After lunch, he tried to get a minute in private with Lizzy, but Governor Gardiner found him just as he approached Lizzy. "Will, you know how much I love your writing, yes?" Governor Gardiner said.  
  
"Oh dear," Lizzy said under her breath, apparently knowing where this was headed.  
  
Will took a deep breath. "Is there a problem, ma'am?"  
  
"I have no issue with smart writing, but does this speech have to be quite so..."  
  
"Sesquipedalian?" Lizzy suggested. Will cast a quick glance at her, thinking she'd never been so hot before using that word.  
  
"I like big words, Will," the Governor continued, "but I marked all the ones I had to look up. We probably shouldn't use those."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
The Governor left them alone, Will glancing at Lizzy over the notes he was now reviewing. "Sesquipedalian," he repeated.  
  
"I like that better than polysyllabic."  
  
"It's more colorful, certainly."  
  
He looked up again and their eyes met. She looked like there was something more she wanted to say. Then her gaze dropped to his mouth and she looked like there was something more she wanted to do. The papers suddenly felt very loose in his hands, and he licked his lips quickly without thinking about it.  
  
She swallowed hard and took a step back. "I have to return a call to the  _Des Moines Register_ ," she said hastily. "I'll, um, I'll talk to you later about TV appearances and everything, okay?"  
  
"Sure," he told her retreating form.  
  
Despite the cold and the tension and the strangeness of the caucuses, Will was finding he rather liked Iowa after all.  
  


* * *

  
"Sesquipedalian," Lizzy said to the gaggle of reporters waiting for her afternoon briefing. "Anyone know what it means?"  
  
"Does it have to do with Sasquatch?" Christa from CNN asked.  
  
The others laughed while Lizzy gave a mock glare. "It means long-winded, right?" Jamie from the  _Washington Post_  said.  
  
"That's longiloquent," Kevin from MSNBC told her.  
  
"There is no way you're not making that up," said Jamie.  
  
"Is this a quiz?" asked the other Kevin.  
  
"Yes!" Lizzy said, pointing to him. "That's it! We're doing a daily word quiz now."  
  
"It means 'characterized by long words,'" Rico from ABC read off his phone.  
  
"Hey! No cheating!" Lizzy and half a dozen others said at once.  
  
"So how are you feeling about tonight, Lizzy?" Tara from the  _Tribune_  asked.  
  
"We're feeling good. Getting lots of calcium."  
  
"Senator Zwillick is the favorite by five points, according to the latest poll," Christa said.  
  
"And nineteen percent undecided," Lizzy pointed out. "Iowa is special, sometimes even a little magical. People come out in the cold and the dark with open minds, to pick the next President. We've got a lot of enthusiasm on our side. Senator Zwillick has a lot of money, but to paraphrase a great English poet, money can't buy you love."  
  
The reporters laughed, and Lizzy wrapped things up after a couple more questions. She almost immediately found herself confronted by Chuck Bingley, who was shoving a tablet into her hands. "Could you read this?" he asked. "Will sort of destroyed the last draft I showed him."  
  
"Destroyed it?"  
  
"Yeah, he's a little on edge. Apparently he gets stressed when the day of reckoning comes around."  
  
"I assume he called it a day of reckoning. That doesn't really sound like you."  
  
"Yeah. I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting him to be this tense. He's normally harder to rattle."  
  
Lizzy just nodded, not wanting to indicate she might know anything about Will's distraction. She probably didn't have to worry, though. Chuck was a sweet guy but tended not to notice things.  
  
Will  _was_  distracted. Everyone on the staff, it seemed, wanted to talk to her about him, wanted to know if she possessed any special insight into this turn of character. Lizzy did, of course, but she was more than a little alarmed by the number of people who thought she would. Had they been seen kissing? Had Will told someone about it?  
  
She had difficulty imagining Will telling anyone. She hadn't even told Jane. As for being seen, surely someone would have told her by now she'd been spotted kissing him. Yet everyone seemed to think she would know what was going on in his head.  
  
She couldn't read his mind. He liked to argue, liked picking fights with her, but until New Year's Eve she wasn't sure she'd have called it flirting. If it was, it was the nerdiest flirting in history. He always seemed to know what she needed, and he knew how to push her to do better. He was awkward, blunt, arrogant, and sometimes even rude, but he was intelligent, kind, thoughtful, and sometimes even patient. He was a nightmare to figure out, and Lizzy finally understood how much she wanted to.  
  
But he was her boss. That made it a terrible idea.  
  
In the evening there was nothing to do but wait for the results. The earliest precincts were small and rural. More conservative areas were going for Jones and Hawkley, the least liberal candidates in the field. But when the larger towns and cities started coming in, the field shifted to a race between Zwillick and Gardiner. Lizzy spent a good part of the night on television, talking up the Governor's chances for a strong showing but trying to keep expectations low. It got more and more difficult as more information came in. By eleven, they were in a dead heat.  
  
"Senator Zwillick is already talking about a recount," one of the PBS anchors said to her late that night.  
  
"Hey, if he wants to pay for more lawyers, then bless his heart," she said, which got the two women at the anchor desk laughing.  
  
At eleven-thirty, Lizzy yawned and nearly tripped over a cable when she got up from her last segment. Will was there, catching her by the arm to keep her upright. "You all right?" he said quietly.  
  
His voice did really terrible things to her self-control at this time of night. "Yeah," she said, looking away from him. "Just tired."  
  
"Well, you can probably take a nap between now and the New Hampshire primary."  
  
She looked up at him, caught a hint of a smile, and burst out laughing.  
  
At a quarter to midnight, the Iowa state party called the caucuses for Margaret Gardiner, who managed a surprise victory with a stronger-than-expected showing in the cities. The pundits were already pointing out she was Governor of a neighboring state, but no one in the Gardiner campaign cared about that now. Six months ago she polled in the single digits in Iowa. When the state caucused, she won by two percent.  
  
It was only the first of fifty states, but victory that night was sweet.  
  
The next day, New Hampshire greeted them with huge crowds. Every media outlet wanted them. All the down-ticket candidates were clamoring for the Governor's attention. It was unlike anything Lizzy had ever experienced, but she found herself dubious.  
  
She was joined in her doubt only by Will, and sometimes the Governor. "Do you think we're crazy?" Lizzy asked Will as they stood behind the dais at a rally. "Are we just not reading this right?"  
  
"I'm always pessimistic," Will pointed out. "I'd have thought you'd be the first among cheerleaders."  
  
"I think you and I are more alike than most people would imagine. You're not as antisocial as you'd like everyone to believe, and I'm not nearly as fond of humanity as humanity would like to think."  
  
He raised a brow. "That's the most cynical thing I've ever heard you say."  
  
She smiled. "How many people are there in the world you love, Mr. F. William Darcy? And how many of them do you respect?"  
  
"Touché."  
  
She shook her head. "I still can't figure out what name is so terrible you won't use it."  
  
"Maybe it was my father's name and that's how I was differentiated from him."  
  
"Your father's name is George."  
  
He gaped at her. "How do you know that?"  
  
"I've heard your uncle talk about his brother-in-law George. Also Lewis, but he's in jail along with Catherine de Bourgh over the Cencal thing."  
  
He took off his sunglasses and frowned. "Do you remember everything?"  
  
"I don't mean to be insensitive or anything, Will, but the Cencal scandal was huge for me professionally."  
  
He looked away with a slight shrug. "I'm not offended. I was close to my aunt before my parents died, but we drifted apart years ago."  
  
She was quiet for a moment. "I didn't know your parents were dead."  
  
"Car accident, twelve years ago."  
  
He was curt when he spoke, but Lizzy intuited that even after more than a decade, he wasn't comfortable speaking of this. She couldn't blame him, so she let the matter drop.  
  
After the rally Sunday they went back to the Nashua office, where the Governor would be on a conference call with precinct captains. The rest of them were to meet with Mary Benet, who was there to help with the rollout of her mobile apps and the rest of that operation. Lizzy had played with the apps and thought they were going to prove indispensable. They allowed volunteers going door to door to collect all kinds of data about the people they talked to, provided phone bank sheets, and other tools to allow local organizers to operate with some independence from the national organization.  
  
New Hampshire was going to be the big test for it. If the server couldn't keep up with usage, it would kill their get-out-the-vote effort. Lizzy hated putting all their eggs in one basket but they couldn't afford more than one basket.  
  
Lizzy had only seen Mary a couple of times since they graduated. Mary had been to Nashua briefly, but never while the candidate was there. Lizzy imagined Mary would be surprised by how different the circus was now, but at least she wasn't easily distracted.  
  
Her interpreter—or at least the woman Lizzy assumed to be Mary's interpreter—had to tap her shoulder to draw her attention away from a computer screen when Lizzy approached with Will and Chuck. Mary looked up, then followed the woman's indication till she saw Lizzy. Mary smiled and signed hello. Lizzy hurried forward to hug her. "It's so good to see you," she said, making sure she wasn't blocking Mary's view of her interpreter.  
  
"You too," Mary said for herself.  
  
Lizzy pulled back. "Let me introduce you to the others."  
  
She turned to the guys but Will, looking like a deer in the headlights, caught her attention. "What are you doing here?" he said to Mary's interpreter.  
  
"Can't just be glad to see me, Will?" the woman said, going up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek.  
  
The woman was taller than Lizzy and prettier, and from the startled, vaguely displeased look on Will's face, Lizzy wondered for a moment if this was the mysterious Caroline. She felt an absurd rush of something like jealousy as this person hugged Will and he reluctantly hugged her back.  
  
A minute later she shoved back the irrational voice in her head, realizing the woman couldn't possibly be Will's ex. She was maybe five years younger than Lizzy, and there was more than a passing resemblance between them. "Guys, this is my sister Gigi," Will said, "who didn't bother telling me she has a new job." He turned back to her for a second. "Does Richard know?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
He let out a long-suffering sigh, from which Lizzy bit back a smile. Chuck stepped forward and introduced himself to both women. Lizzy shook Gigi's hand. "Lizzy Bennet. Nice to meet you."  
  
Gigi's whole face lit up, even as she signed for Mary's benefit. "Oh, Lizzy! I've heard about..."  
  
Will suddenly clamped his hand over his sister's mouth. "Georgiana, have we talked lately about your compulsive over-sharing?"  
  
She made a muffled noise behind his hand, which he then removed. "Have we talked lately about what happens when you call me that?" It was remarkable to watch how Gigi kept up with her job even though her brother was physically restraining her.  
  
Will caught Lizzy's eye over Gigi's head as she grinned at him. She couldn't help it. It was incredibly endearing and not at all what Lizzy expected.  
  
He released his sister and they went on with the meeting with Mary, who seemed highly amused by all this. In the back of her mind, though, Lizzy was thinking about the Darcys, and she remembered what Will had told her. His sister must have been very young when their parents died. From the way they interacted now, Lizzy had to think Will had had a hand in raising Gigi. She tried to imagine having that kind of responsibility while she was in grad school and couldn't. It might explain why Will was so serious most of the time. It was probably in his nature but that level of responsibility would cement it.  
  
She was spending too much time thinking about him these days. The surge of jealousy earlier, before she knew who Gigi was, settled into the back of her mind and wasn't letting go. Lizzy wasn't sure when it happened, or even how. One kiss wasn't reason enough to think she had some claim to him. It had been an amazing kiss, but how pathetic was she? Was she actually pining for Will?  
  
There was only one thing to be done, really. She had to talk to someone, so that night she grabbed a bag of goldfish crackers and went to Jane's hotel room, where she made confession and waited for absolution.  
  
"You and Will kissed?" Jane said, startled. "When?"  
  
Lizzy flopped down on Jane's bed and sighed. "New Year's Eve."  
  
Jane frowned. "Was it just a friendly, ring in the New Year thing?"  
  
"There was tongue."  
  
"Oh. Were you drunk?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Was he drunk?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then I'm not sure how to help."  
  
"I just... It's weird, Jane. Sometimes we're working and it's like nothing happened, and other times he just  _looks_  at me, and I don't know what he's thinking."  
  
"Have you asked?"  
  
"How am I supposed to ask  _that_?" Lizzy sat up, cradling her head in her hands. "'Hey, Will, I know you hired me and all, but are you thinking about jumping me?'"  
  
Jane looked properly scandalized by the suggestion. "Lizzy!"  
  
Lizzy shrugged. "You see my problem? At least you're not working for Chuck."  
  
Jane turned bright red. "You know about him?"  
  
"Janie, did you think this was a big secret?" Lizzy asked, finally smiling a little.  
  
Jane swung a pillow at her and they left off the conversation. Still, Lizzy didn't know what to do about Will, and her only consolation was that Will didn't seem to know what to do about her either.  
  


* * *

  
On Tuesday night, Will was resisting the urge to drink alone, even though he'd been right.  
  
As the results started coming in, everyone teased him about his concern—everyone but Lizzy. He spent much of the evening watching her, not looking away even when she noticed his scrutiny. Frequently she would blush and look away, then go back to work.  
  
The adrenaline wore off for the others soon enough, as one county after another reported a Zwillick win. Finally Will left for his hotel room, knowing no one would want his brand of pessimism on television tonight, while they tried to spin the loss into something less negative.  
  
Around midnight, Lizzy showed up at his door. "It's not the end of the world, you know," she said without preamble. There was a bag in her hand and he suspected pie.  
  
He let out a brief, humorless laugh. "Come on in, Lizzy."  
  
He was right about what she'd brought, but unlike the morning with the lemon meringue, she had two slices of French silk. "You found a twenty-four-hour bakery?"  
  
"Diner. I don't think they're normally open this late, just when people like us are here."  
  
She sat in the room's lone chair; he sat on the end of the bed. Their knees bumped as she handed him a styrofoam box and silently both dug in. The slice looked amazing but the first bite told him something was wrong. The filling was gritty and didn't taste much like chocolate. The crust was mush. It didn't occur to him to conceal his distaste, not that he ever did a good job of it.  
  
Lizzy saw his face and laughed. "I guess this isn’t worth the risk of salmonella."  
  
He reached to set the remains of the pie on the desk behind her. A whisper of perfume surprised him, as did her sharp intake of breath. He lifted his gaze to hers, and the kiss that followed seemed more inevitable than anything else.  
  
He kissed her slowly, deeply, and wondered how he had managed to hold out for a week. Since the midnight kiss, they'd won in Iowa and lost in New Hampshire, and Will felt like he'd gone through six election cycles in the interim. Now he was feeling her, tasting her again, and it was like the last week had been a dream, and this was really what happened next.  
  
She pulled away before he'd had enough, and it was all he could do not to chase after her. He decided not to push it. "You said it wasn't the end of the world."  
  
She shook her head while his fingers brushed her soft cheek and she stared at his mouth. "Proportional representation," she murmured. She licked her lips and Will barely suppressed a groan. "Zwillick... Zwillick barely won tonight. We weren't that far ahead in the delegate count after Iowa and we're not that far behind now."  
  
"He's from Tennessee," Will said. "We won't win in South Carolina either."  
  
She shook her head, even as his fingers trailed along the deep neckline of her dress. He realized belatedly it was the dress she wore when they met, one that figured into his idle thoughts at whiles. "No," she said in agreement, "but we have two weeks to close the gap. Then another week to Michigan and Florida."  
  
"And then Super Tuesday." He cupped her cheek. "Lizzy."  
  
She took a shaky breath. "Will, I didn't come here for this."  
  
"I didn't let you in for this either."  
  
Despite her obvious misgivings, she leaned forward and kissed him frantically. Will wanted to drag her out of the chair and throw her down on the bed, but he somehow managed to let her control the kiss. He wanted her more than he remembered wanting anyone, but he was terrified of trying too hard, scaring her away.  
  
Lizzy pulled back with a little pained noise and abruptly stood. "Lizzy?" Will said, in a voice he hardly recognized as his own.  
  
"I should go."  
  
"I know," he said, catching her hand, "but stay?" She looked down at their joined hands, and he drew her fingers to his lips. "Please."  
  
She took another deep breath, steadier this time. "Is this because we lost tonight?"  
  
He waited until she met his gaze to shake his head. "This is because of you, darlin'," he said, losing control of his accent as the endearment came out in a drawl.  
  
It was all she needed him to say. Lizzy stepped out of her heels and came closer, lifting one knee to the bed beside him. He touched her tentatively, fingertips trailing up her thigh. She leaned down to kiss him, and Will smiled, for the first time all night.  
  


* * *

  
Lizzy woke very early in the morning, after only a couple hours of sleep. For a little while she listened to Will breathing quietly next to her and wondered again if she'd lost her mind entirely. She'd gone to bed with her boss, so she must have.  
  
But it didn't feel like it. Even now, with a little sleep to clear her head, she didn't feel like she'd done something colossally stupid. Part of her wanted to turn over and lie in his arms until daybreak. There had been some awkwardness, natural and unavoidable, but Will was gentle and... polite, though that was a cold way of putting it. He had a selfish streak, after all; it would be easy to imagine him as inconsiderate in bed. But from the moment she decided to stay, he made her feel as though she was all the world to him.  
  
She should have left hours ago, but he had held her and kissed her and made her forget about discretion. Lizzy could almost feel his kisses still lingering on her skin, hear the endearments that seemed to slip from him so easily. It was incredibly powerful, having that kind of influence over him, even when she was just as helpless in his hands.  
  
She heard the shift in his breathing and turned to see him open his eyes. It was almost funny to see how immediately alert he was. In the dim light she could see his worried frown as he looked at her. "Time is it?" he mumbled.  
  
Lizzy groped for his phone on the bedside table. She flinched from the light when she turned on the screen but she read the time. "Little after four."  
  
Will rolled over too, settling a heavy arm around her. "Hmm. Go back to sleep, Lizzy."  
  
He kissed the back of her neck, then steadily moved lower with his attention until she squirmed. "How do you expect me to sleep while you're doing that?"  
  
"Good point," he said, lips still pressed to her skin.  
  
As good as it felt, Lizzy sighed. "I really ought to go."  
  
He stilled and she looked over her shoulder at him. "Will?"  
  
"You want to sneak out?" he said in a flat voice.  
  
"I didn't say that." Lizzy turned over to face him, laying her hand on his chest. His skin was very warm. "I don't want other people to know about this before we have a chance to really talk about it."  
  
"We could talk now."  
  
She let out a little laugh and rested her forehead against his shoulder for a minute. "I need sleep now."  
  
He swept her hair back from her face and sighed. "Will you stay for a little while? We can talk about something else, but no one's going to be up for an hour."  
  
Lizzy looked at his face, realizing she really didn't want to go. This relationship, or whatever it was, was trouble, but she didn't want to leave his bed, although the rational part of her mind was telling her to run.  
  
She pushed his shoulder gently, urging him to lay on his back, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "What do you want to talk about?"  
  
"Mary's stuff?" he suggested.  
  
"I thought it worked pretty well for a trial run," Lizzy replied. "She had a list of problems a mile long, or at least that's what Gigi told me."  
  
"I forgot Gigi's here in Nashua," Will said, freezing.  
  
Lizzy pushed herself onto one elbow. "I should go?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm sorry, but I don't trust her not to find out somehow, and you really don't want her knowing before you and I can talk."  
  
Laughing, Lizzy hauled herself out of bed and went looking for her clothes. She thought Will's relationship with his sister was rather sweet, but she could understand. "I figured you wouldn't want her to know at all."  
  
"No, not really," he agreed. Lizzy let her eyes follow him as he got out of bed and pulled on a robe. "I practically raised her after our parents died. There are certain things your baby sister shouldn't know."  
  
"She's a grown woman, Will."  
  
He sighed. "I know."  
  
Lizzy dressed quickly, and at the door she drew him in for a soft kiss. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I am," he replied, seemingly unable to stop touching her. "Are you?"  
  
She nodded. "Have dinner with me tonight. We'll talk."  
  
After one last kiss she slipped from the room and into the deserted hall. Once she was safely in her room again she leaned against the closed door, taking a deep breath. Already, part of her regretted leaving him.


	6. Chapter 6

> _It's not really a surprise that Republican voters are falling in line behind a candidate, only a little surprising that Mike Connolly is their man. Or maybe it isn't. Senator Connolly is an old-school Southern conservative, in a party that's become increasingly Southern._
> 
> _The Democrats are probably hoping to avoid a repeat of last week. No matter how Lizzy Bennet and her team spun it, Governor Gardiner's loss in New Hampshire must have been a crushing blow to morale. If they're going to stay alive in this race, they're going to have to prove that they can play in the South, even with Tom Zwillick on the ballot._
> 
> _Megan Polk, aka SouthernLib, January 14, 2014_

  
"We lost the Keating house," Charlotte announced almost the minute Lizzy arrived in the Charleston office.  
  
"Lost it?" Lizzy asked. "Like, in a sinkhole? Wormhole?"  
  
Charlotte looked at Kelly, Lizzy's new assistant, with something like pity. "My condolences. She's isn't worth it."  
  
Lizzy happened to look at Will across the conference table. "I wouldn't go that far," he said.  
  
"Lizzy just suggested we lost the Keating house in a wormhole, Will."  
  
"I don't even know what the Keating house is."  
  
"For the fundraiser tomorrow night?"  
  
Richard reached across the table for a bottle of water. "How'd we lose Keating?"  
  
"They were fixing a light fixture and found asbestos," Charlotte informed him.  
  
"Well, we probably don't want to cause cancer, so that's reasonable," Lizzy pointed out.  
  
"Will, why weren't we using your house?" Richard asked.  
  
"Probably because I forgot about it."  
  
Lizzy looked at him incredulously. "You forgot about your house?"  
  
"I've only owned it for a couple years," he said, rubbing the back of his neck in a way she now identified as embarrassment. "I've not been there more than twice in the last ten years."  
  
Lizzy shook her head. "Sometimes it's surreal being around you and Richard."  
  
"How'd I get dragged into this?" Richard asked.  
  
"Your family owns a vineyard as a hobby."  
  
"Yeah, but we work for a living."  
  
Lizzy shook her head and caught the water bottle Richard tossed at her. "You think I can't catch, Fitzwilliam?"  
  
"You're Swiss. I don't know what to assume."  
  
"I played softball at Wisconsin. Catcher. I have great hand-eye coordination and amazing thighs."  
  
Will nearly did a spit-take, but so did Charlotte and Lizzy's new assistant.  
  
The Keating house was refunding the campaign's deposit, so the caterer and all the guests were quickly informed of the change of venue. During the meeting it also occurred to them they could save money on hotel rooms if some of them stayed at the Darcy house.  
  
The Gardiners got the privacy of the guest house, while the senior staff stayed in the house proper. When they arrived, the house staff was hard at work getting the huge public rooms on the ground floor ready. "How could you forget about this place?" Lizzy asked Will, staring in wonder at the old Southern grandeur.  
  
"It was my great-aunt's," he explained. "She left it to me when she died a couple years ago. I've pretty much left it as she had it, doing weddings and banquets and such. It pays for itself, but not much more."  
  
Will led the other staffers to the rooms they would occupy for the next three days after showing the Gardiners to the guest house. Most of the rooms were on the second floor and at the end of the south wing of the house. Richard shook his head. "Sometimes I forget the Darcys are worth about ten times more than the Fitzwilliams."  
  
"Well, we were here first and you've got a President in your family tree," Will said dryly.  
  
"Where did the Darcys come from?" Jane asked.  
  
"France. Back then it was spelled with a lowercase D and an apostrophe. They came to the Carolinas in the 1790s."  
  
Chuck frowned. "Why?"  
  
"It was politically expedient."  
  
Chuck was still frowning, but then he got it. "Oh. There's a Château d'Arcy somewhere in the French Alps?"  
  
"The French Pyrenees, but it was either keep the château or keep their heads, so..."  
  
Richard rolled his eyes. "We Fitzwilliams, on the other hand, came from Ireland with naught but our spirits."  
  
"And eventually made your fortune as?" Lizzy prompted, knowing how the story ended.  
  
"Bootleggers," Richard replied with a shrug.  
  
Will commandeered the group again and divided them into their four rooms. "Where are you and Lizzy going?" Richard asked, being nosy.  
  
"There are two more bedrooms on the third floor," Will explained. "I'm taking the master bedroom because technically I'm the master..."  
  
"Despite having forgotten you own the place," Charlotte put in.  
  
"And I figured Lizzy wouldn't mind the extra flight of stairs," Will continued, unperturbed, "since she claims to have amazing thighs."  
  
Lizzy felt her face turn bright red as he threw her words back at her. The others laughed.  
  
With everyone heading into their rooms, Lizzy followed Will up the stairs. He led her through a door into a very pretty room with a four-poster bed, white linens, and an antique quilt with red and blue stars. "This is beautiful, Will," she said, taking in the dark, Federal-style furniture, the stunning artwork, and the marble fireplace on the far wall.  
  
"There's more," he replied, taking her hand. "Used to have a dressing room attached that was converted into a walk-in closet and a bathroom a while back."  
  
He opened a door, which led to a small hallway. Off of it were entrances to the closet and the bathroom, and it opened into another bedroom. "The master bedroom," he said. "Which is the other reason I thought you wouldn't mind being up here."  
  
Lizzy let go of his hand and set her arms loosely around his neck. "I shouldn't have said my thighs were amazing."  
  
"Yeah, but they are," he replied, letting his hands skim down her hips as he drew her closer and kissed her.  
  
They'd hardly had any time alone since their night in Nashua. The following night they had dinner together, but it was hard to make it look like they were eating together casually. Fortunately they were on the same page about this fledgling relationship, or close to it. Things were new and uncertain. They were leading high-stress lives right now. They wanted privacy, and privacy was best maintained by taking things slowly.  
  
Since Nashua they'd only spent one night together, when they were in Florida and Will couldn't get the heater off in his room and came to hers instead. They would have three nights together now, though, and as Will kissed her, Lizzy thought it could never be enough.  
  
Much as she might have wanted to take advantage of their privacy, she knew they had to get back to work. Reluctantly she pulled away, grinning a little at the frustrated noise he made. "Work before pleasure, Fortinbras," she reminded him.  
  
She turned away but he caught her around the waist and pulled her close again. With his free hand, he pulled the collar of her shirt out of his way and placed a lingering kiss at her collarbone. Lizzy reached to thread her fingers through his hair, but after a second she realized what he was trying to do and squirmed away. "I have to go on camera!" she gasped. "You can't give me a hickey!"  
  
"Well, I  _can_ ," he corrected, in that annoyingly pedantic tone he used when he talked about grammar. "I'm physically capable."  
  
Lizzy rolled her eyes. "If you put a mark on me someone else is going to see, we're never having sex again."  
  
He gaped at her for a minute before realizing she was serious. "We should get back to work, I guess."  
  
"Yes, yes, we should," Lizzy replied with a tiny smirk.  
  


* * *

  
The rest of the first day in Charleston was spent making sure everything was in place for the next night's fundraiser. The senior staff spent a good deal of time prepping the Governor. "She speaks every day," Jane said to Will quietly. "Answers questions most days. Why are you guys prepping so hard on this one?"  
  
"These fundraisers used to be private," Will replied. "But it's too easy for someone to record an event now. A couple weeks ago Frank Muñoz got into some trouble for remarks at a private event. We want the Governor to say what she thinks, but we want to make sure it's not going to come back to haunt us."  
  
"Who gives their opponent $500 to attend an event to hear unscripted remarks?"  
  
"Super PACs have that kind of money. And sometimes they're against one candidate instead of for another, so that type of expenditure is actually part of the agenda."  
  
"And it actually works?"  
  
Will shrugged. "Depends on the candidate."  
  
"Hence the prep."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
They had an evening rally for which there was good local and national coverage. Their hope for South Carolina wasn't a win—that was never going to happen—but a strong second place would solidify their standing in the race as the only real alternative to Zwillick. Iowa gave them a fighting chance, and despite the disappointment of losing, coming in second in New Hampshire wasn't such a bad thing.  
  
That night he fell asleep with Lizzy curled beside him. A night in Nashua and another in Orlando left him craving her more than he would have thought possible. Maybe it was because he saw her every day, but his nights were lonely without her. He was also pretty sure three mornings of waking up with her in his arms would make the next night without her that much more difficult.  
  
Will was always thinking ahead, but for once, the night of the fundraiser, he let himself live in the moment. This event wasn't as formal as some, but the men were in suits and the women in cocktail dresses. Lizzy's was a wine-colored dress with a straight skirt ending at her knees. The waist was very high, around her ribcage, and above it a sheer fabric covered the embroidered bodice and draped over her shoulders, hanging down just past the hem at the back.  
  
He'd been silently thanking God there wasn't going to be dancing. He generally hated it. He might not have minded dancing with Lizzy, but he feared if he got the opportunity, everyone would know about them immediately, and all their attempts for privacy would be for naught. It was difficult enough to keep his eyes from following her everywhere.  
  
She was stunning, though. There were plenty of women at the party wearing far less demure clothes, but Lizzy looked completely comfortable in her skin and in her job. Her sharp wit and sharper mind were always on. She was charming, even beguiling, and Will was frequently very grateful she had seen past his brusqueness enough to want him the way he wanted her.  
  
That night everyone staying in the main house was up late, waiting for the last of the guests to leave. Eventually they gathered in the old library, where Will succumbed to the cliché, pouring a glass of scotch for anyone who wanted it. Chuck had gone to the campaign office for something, and Jane wasn't there either. It was just him, Lizzy, Richard, and Charlotte. That was plenty for entertainment, as Richard told stories about their grandfather's second campaign, when Will was only four and Richard was a very sage nine.  
  
They laughed themselves silly, mostly at Will's expense. Lizzy was the first to leave. Charlotte wasn't far behind, leaving the cousins alone. "So," Richard said, setting his empty glass down, "is there something I should know?"  
  
"About?" Will asked, though he knew the answer.  
  
"You and Lizzy."  
  
Richard wasn't making fun of him, like Will might have expected. For the first time he really felt his cousin was also his employer, and it prompted him to take this more seriously than he might otherwise. "I assume you would have told me back in Iowa if this was really a problem."  
  
"I would have. This isn't going to affect either of you at work, is it?"  
  
Will shrugged. "We're both professionals."  
  
"Then you're fine." Richard got up and yawned. "So are her thighs really as amazing as reported?"  
  
"Go to bed, Richard."  
  
Richard followed instructions for once, and Will went upstairs after taking the glasses to the kitchen. Lizzy was in the bathroom when he entered the suite, and he watched from the doorway as she washed her face. "This is feeling a little domestic," she remarked, while she dried off.  
  
"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, stepping away from the door jamb to stand behind her.  
  
"Are you going to watch me brush my hair next?"  
  
He ran his hands up her back, under the chiffon layer, and kissed the back of her neck. "I could brush it for you."  
  
"So you can mess it up later?" she said with laughter. "Seems like a waste of time."  
  
Will was distracted. With one hand he traced down her spine, fully expecting to pull the zipper of her dress down, but there was no closure. It was too form-fitting not to have one. "Lizzy?" he said. "I think there's something wrong here."  
  
He saw the look of alarm in the reflection of her face. "What?"  
  
"Shouldn't there be a zipper or something back here?"  
  
She laughed at him. "It's vintage, Will. The zipper's on the side."  
  
"Oh." She turned around and he settled his hands at her hips. "Which side?"  
  
Lizzy put her arms around his neck and pulled him down. Just before kissing him, she said, "Why don't you find out for yourself?"  
  
He grinned, more than willing to take up her challenge.  
  
When he awoke the next morning, Lizzy was already out of bed and dressed. "Hey," he said in a rough voice, "what do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Going to the campaign office," she said, stepping into her shoes. "People are voting today. Lots of work to do."  
  
Will groaned. "Don't remind me."  
  
She laughed and kissed him lightly. "I'll do what I can."  
  
She left the room before he could come up with a protest. He remembered what he'd told Richard the night before. They were professionals. Now he had to act like one.  
  


* * *

  
Lizzy shared a cab with Jane, who was heading to the airport by way of the campaign office. "Our next hire has to be an advance person," Lizzy said, readjusting the straps of her bag on her shoulder while they walked into the building. "That way you can stick to scheduling and let the other person do all this traveling ahead."  
  
Jane gave a tired smile. "We'd probably split the advance work."  
  
"You're entirely too nice, you know?"  
  
Jane didn't argue, and they entered the building in silence. It was too early to expect any but the most dedicated in the office. Not even Richard was there, and his former days in the Marines had trained him to think early was on time, on time was late, and late was grounds for firing. There were a couple voices, though, coming from the break room, so Lizzy and Jane headed back to let those people know they weren't alone.  
  
They were still out of sight when they were close enough to make out what was being said. Lizzy recognized her assistant's voice; the other woman's was unfamiliar. "Oh, so I was here last night to check the wires," Kelly was saying. "You wouldn't believe my boss, really. She's a lunatic."  
  
Lizzy and Jane exchanged a look of surprise and disgust. Lizzy knew she wasn't easy to work for, but she demanded no more from an assistant than she demanded from herself. She never even asked them to bring her coffee. They were there to do real work, not play fetch. But that was only prelude; the worst was coming shortly.  
  
"You'll never believe who came in while I was in here."  
  
Jane froze, grabbing Lizzy's arm. Lizzy frowned but she didn't have to ask. Kelly continued, "Chuck Bingley came waltzing in—and I mean, literally waltzing in—with a girl. I figured it was just some girl he met at the fundraiser, but no, it was  _Jane Bennett_."  
  
"Jane?" the other person said incredulously. "No, you must have been wrong."  
  
"Tall blonde, looks like she could be a supermodel?"  
  
"Yeah, that's Jane."  
  
"I didn't stick around long enough to see what happened, but given the mess on Chuck's desk this morning, I think we can guess. I know I haven't been here very long, but I didn't figure Jane would spread it like that."  
  
Lizzy had had enough of eavesdropping; she stepped into the doorway and said rather loudly, "Good morning!"  
  
The two women jumped, looking guilty. Lizzy was seething. "Kelly, I know you haven't been here long, but go pack your things."  
  
"What?" Kelly spluttered, getting to her feet awkwardly. "You can't..."  
  
"I hired you, so I can fire you. Jane Bennett is a professional. She keeps this campaign running single-handedly. Beyond that, who cares what she does in her spare time?" Lizzy let out an exasperated sigh. "I'd have thought a woman would understand that we're supposed to be past the point where we have to be ashamed. It's bad enough to hear it from Paleolithic men, but what's your excuse?"  
  
It was obvious Kelly had none. Lizzy stormed off after a long moment of silence.  
  
Jane followed her into the back room to Lizzy's desk. "Lizzy," Jane said in her gentle voice, "you didn't have to fire her."  
  
"She's clearly not happy working here anyway," Lizzy said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Besides, what right does she..."  
  
When she stopped talking abruptly, Jane looked back to see if Kelly or the other woman followed them. "Lizzy, there's something else, isn't there?"  
  
Lizzy closed her eyes for a moment. "Will and I have been..."  
  
She didn't need to be specific. Jane's jaw dropped. "Really? Since when?"  
  
"Since the night we lost New Hampshire," Lizzy replied, feeling herself blush as she suddenly remembered the look on Will's face as he undressed her that first night. "We haven't been together very often."  
  
"Are you going to try to keep this a secret?" Jane asked.  
  
Lizzy sank down in her chair. "I don't know. Every time I think about it, all I come up with is that he's my boss. No one's going to care about him, but what are they going to think about me? You and I both know what people think about women who sleep with the boss."  
  
"Well," Jane said, sitting across from her, "I'd say Will may be in charge of the campaign's message, and that includes your interaction with the press, but Charlotte and Richard are really the bosses around here."  
  
"That's what the sensible people will say. Sensible people don't wind up in front of cameras."  
  
"Does that mean you're not sensible?" Jane said with a tiny smile. "Lizzy, if he's worth the trouble, you'll figure out how to deal with it. If not, well, hopefully you'll figure that out before you're found out."  
  
It was good advice, but even with good advice Lizzy found it difficult to push away her misgivings.  
  
South Carolina was voting that day, though, which helped. Lizzy was on camera off and on all day. Mary's software was working much more smoothly than in New Hampshire, and Will Darcy was seen smiling before the polls closed. "That's one of the signs of the apocalypse, you know," Richard told Lizzy, smiling at her in a knowing way.  
  
"Richard," she said, sighing, "if you've got something to say..."  
  
"No, I'm just wondering what you see in my cousin that you don't see in me," he whispered. "Is it the money? Or because he's handsome?"  
  
She decided to play along for a second. "It's the way he growls when he doesn't get his way."  
  
Richard laughed so hard they drew half the room's attention.  
  
The polls closed, and the period of real nail-biting began, like waiting to turn over a card already dealt. Nothing more could be done, and Governor Gardiner addressed the staff to remind them that they should be proud of their work, no matter the outcome.  
  
A few rural precincts reported first, swinging heavily toward Zwillick, as was expected. But when the cities started reporting, the game changed. Where there were more Democrats, more of them voted for Gardiner, and before long they were neck-and-neck.  
  
From their perspective, it didn't really matter who won. Coming anywhere close to Zwillick in a Southern state  _was_  a win. The rest of the field was in Gardiner and Zwillick's dust, and Lizzy had a feeling the first candidate to drop out would do so in the next couple days. If they could get an endorsement out of it, it'd be a good day's work.  
  
As the campaign was celebrating, Will came to Lizzy's side and touched her hand for a moment. She wanted to hold his hand but she kept herself under control. "Do I need to go on camera?" she asked.  
  
"No, I thought maybe something was wrong," he said. "You fired your assistant."  
  
"Yeah, she wasn't working out."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Chronic lateness."  
  
She met his eyes, and a moment later he nodded, understanding she couldn't tell him what happened. "Will you tell me later?" he asked very quietly.  
  
"No," she whispered. "There was a problem. I took care of it."  
  
"Lizzy."  
  
"Will, I'm serious," she said. "Leave this one alone."  
  
He looked frustrated and maybe even a little hurt, but he nodded. "All right."  
  
He walked away, and for a little while Lizzy felt much less like celebrating.


	7. Chapter 7

> _I'm not sure any Presidential candidate in my lifetime has campaigned in Oklahoma. I feel like I've slipped into an alternate reality._
> 
>   
>  _Colin Blackwell, aka The Native Advocate, February 15, 2014_

  
Will had never been to Oklahoma. It wasn't quite what he expected, not that he ever expected to be campaigning there.  
  
They were three days to Super Tuesday. Michigan, two weeks ago, was a solid win for Gardiner; Florida was more of a wash. In the delegate count they were still neck and neck. The last weekend in January, Will and Richard hunkered down with a pile of polls and analysis trying to find anyplace where they could wrangle an advantage. There was a huge roster of states voting at the same time, and there was only so much time and money to spend.  
  
Normally a place like Oklahoma wouldn't have hit their radar. It was too conservative, so conservative even Zwillick wasn't bothering. But every vote and every delegate was looking critical, so the Gardiner campaign took an afternoon out of its Missouri trip to swing through northeastern Oklahoma. They spent the first hour on the Osage reservation, where the Governor talked about her experience with the Native American tribes in Wisconsin. The tribes were hardly identical, but there were similar problems of poverty and addiction and violence against women. The town hall was sufficiently unusual that CNN carried nearly the entire thing live.  
  
Now they were in a tallgrass prairie preserve, one of the things that surprised Will. His image of Oklahoma must have been formed by pictures of the Dust Bowl. There probably were parts of the state that were flat and relatively dry, but Osage County was hilly and green with winter wheat. He was walking through a field with grass more than a foot above his head, like wandering through the yard of a giant dollhouse. The grass was even taller than the bison living on the prairie.  
  
The Governor was talking with conservancy activists while reporters trailed along. Will and Lizzy fell behind the others on this little nature walk, checking reaction to the town hall. "Zwillick just posted a response," Lizzy said, showing Will the Facebook page.  
  
"Yeah?" he asked, silently cursing Twitter while he waited for it to load.  
  
"He says, and I quote, 'Tribal matters deserve thoughtful study.'"  
  
"Seriously?" Will came to a halt, Lizzy beside him, and he plucked her phone from her hand. "Wow. I really thought Tom Zwillick was a better politician than that."  
  
"Well, he did want me," Lizzy said, in a low, teasing voice.  
  
"Don't we all," he deadpanned, and she laughed and took her phone back.  
  
The voices of the Governor's group faded while they stood there, staring at small screens in the middle of a field with bison not too far away. Will reflected for a moment that his life had changed drastically since Richard came to him with the crazy idea of this campaign.  
  
"So what did you think of the speech at the town hall?" he asked, while they were both waiting for sites to load.  
  
"I thought it was fine."  
  
"Fine?"  
  
"You do not need me to puff up your ego, Darcy," Lizzy said, suddenly sounding irritated.  
  
Will frowned. "I wasn't asking..."  
  
"Will, you've got fourteen people to tell you your writing is amazing."  
  
"So it's your job to what, keep me grounded?"  
  
"No, I'm just not going to say you wrote the Gettysburg Address when it wasn't much above average."  
  
Will's jaw tightened as he looked at his phone, which still wasn't loading Twitter. "Wasn't much above average."  
  
Lizzy covered her face for a second. "You're right. It was worse than usual for you."  
  
"Then why didn't you say something?" he asked, trying not to raise his voice.  
  
"I didn't see the text before things got started."  
  
"Okay, so what was your problem?"  
  
But Lizzy was no longer listening. Instead, she was looking down the path through the tallgrass. "Lizzy? What was your..."  
  
"Hang on."  
  
He started to speak again, but she hurried ahead. Suppressing the urge to curse, Will followed after.  
  
He didn't have to ask what the problem was. From the top of the hill and around the next bend, they could see the rest of the path and the parking lot beyond.  
  
Where the bus was nowhere in sight.  
  


* * *

  
"Oh, Lizzy, I am so sorry, but we're almost to Missouri," Jane said over a very bad connection. "We can't turn around to get you. It'd put us two hours late for the rally in Springfield."  
  
Lizzy got off the phone and sighed. "Why does Jane have to be so reasonable? And, you know, efficient?"  
  
"She's not the one who had to walk all the way back here," Will pointed out.  
  
Lizzy sat down on a bench and kicked her shoes off. "Now you're being reasonable and irritating."  
  
It had been a long walk, too. Initially they were just wandering around trying to find signal again on either of their phones, but eventually they arrived at the headquarters for the prairie preserve's conservation staff. They used the landline, and it took calling four different people to get someone who would answer an unknown number. Lizzy wasn't really surprised Jane picked up. They should have tried her to begin with.  
  
"So what's our next move?" Will asked, sitting down next to her.  
  
"I suppose we call the state office and see if they can find a volunteer within, I don't know, fifty miles who can come get us and take us to an airport."  
  
"We have a state office?"  
  
"Where do you think the signs at the town hall came from?"  
  
"Ma'am," said a woman who was filing a few feet away, "I'm going to be off work in a few minutes. I can take you into town. You can get something to eat, wait somewhere more comfortable."  
  
"That'd be great," Lizzy said, getting up. "Wait, what town?"  
  
Half an hour later, they were in the middle of a small town that had seen better days. What was once a charming little downtown was mostly full of empty shop fronts and decaying façades. The woman from the prairie preserve dropped them at a small café, where they ordered sandwiches and soup and waited for their ride.  
  
When the waitress brought their food, she hung back for a minute and asked, "So what brings y'all here?"  
  
"We're with the Gardiner campaign," Lizzy said. "We had an event on the reservation, and then at the tallgrass prairie, and we got left behind by the campaign bus."  
  
"Gardiner," the girl said. "Is that the guy who wears all the weird bow ties?"  
  
"That's Graham, on the Republican side. Mrs. Gardiner is the Governor of Wisconsin."  
  
"Oh, y'all are Democrats."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Will said. Lizzy was surprised to hear his Southern accent as he spoke. "I know we're not really in friendly territory here."  
  
"I don't know. We've got Democrats running the county here. Usually do. Surprised to see y'all in Oklahoma, though."  
  
"Seems a little quixotic?"  
  
The waitress laughed. "Yeah." There was a call from the back, and she smiled at them. "Enjoy your meal. I hope you get back to your people soon."  
  
She walked away, and Lizzy stirred her soup to cool it. "So did you go into that accent intentionally, or is this some sort of immersion thing?"  
  
Will shrugged. "Little of both, I guess."  
  
"I thought disguise of every sort was your abhorrence."  
  
"I don't remember saying that," he said, frowning, "but it sounds like me."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "So why'd you lose the accent to begin with?"  
  
"Because I didn't want to work in North Carolina all my life, and there are people who think white and Southern is synonymous with racist. And some of them are in our very own party."  
  
Lizzy nodded, wondering if her next question was remotely appropriate. "Richard says the Darcys are old money. How old does he mean?"  
  
"I grew up on an antebellum plantation, Elizabeth," he said quietly. He didn't usually use her full name anymore. "There's nothing I can do to change what my ancestors did. I can denounce it, but that's it."  
  
She remembered more that Richard told her, though. Mostly she remembered the Darcys had not approved of Anne Fitzwilliam, largely because of the Fitzwilliams' politics.  
  
Lizzy changed the subject to something far more trivial and Will didn't object. They were done eating several minutes before their ride arrived, so they sat on a bench outside to continue waiting. Across the street, in the windows of a long-empty shop were signs for an upcoming tribal election, "Vote Standingbear Chief" and "Red Eagle for Minerals Council." Lizzy had never thought about modern tribes having democratic elections, but of course it made sense.  
  
Their waitress brought them hot chocolate in paper cups and waved them off when they tried to pay for it. "No, no, y'all are going to be cold if you're out in this wind much longer," she said. "It's on me."  
  
"That was nice of her," Lizzy said when they were alone again.  
  
Will put his arm across the back of the bench. "Thank you for not saying that it's not cold out here."  
  
"Well, it's not, but we've been outside longer than I expected."  
  
He rolled his eyes and sipped his hot chocolate. For a couple minutes they sat in silence until he cleared his throat. "So you never told me what was wrong with the Governor's remarks."  
  
Lizzy went still, staring at the antique store across the street. "Will, can you please just accept that it wasn't your best work? Your worst work is still better than ninety-nine percent of the world."  
  
"Yes, but there's a reason you didn't think it was good and I'd like to understand it."  
  
"You know, I was on speech team in high school, and you're worse than all of them!" she burst out. "It's not always easy to figure out what's wrong."  
  
"Oh, please. You're really going to tell me you can't tell me why you didn't like it?"  
  
"Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."  
  
A silver Jeep pulled up in front of them before Will could answer. The driver, a young woman, rolled down the window and said, "Hey, are you from the Gardiner campaign?"  
  
"That's us," Lizzy said, standing up and grabbing her bag. "I take it you're our ride?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm Katie. Let's get you to Tulsa."  
  
Despite the fact that they were in the middle of an argument, Will opened the front door of the car for Lizzy before getting into the back seat. While Lizzy adjusted the seat to give him more leg room, she said, "I'm Lizzy Bennet, by the way, and that's Will Darcy."  
  
Katie laughed a little. "Yeah, I know who you are. You're a very good writer, Mr. Darcy."  
  
"Thanks," he said. "You're in college, I imagine?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm a sophomore at Oklahoma State," the girl replied. "They asked me to pick y'all up because I was heading this direction anyway to go home for the weekend."  
  
"I hope we're not taking you too far out of your way," Lizzy said.  
  
"Oh, don't worry. I'm not on a schedule or anything."  
  
They were out of town shortly and heading southeast, roughly. The first leg of the trip was through hilly ranch land, but as they got closer to Tulsa, the land flattened out and the road wound through wooded areas. "Pecan groves, mostly," Katie told them. "This whole area used to be so thick with cross timbers that the first white people who came here gave up trying to cut their way through."  
  
"Too bad they didn't give up entirely," Will said from the back seat.  
  
"Well, there was no Teddy Roosevelt or John Muir protecting those forests when they were cut down," Katie replied.  
  
"You interested in the National Parks?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, I'm a forestry major. I'd like to be a park ranger when I graduate."  
  
"So how'd you get interested in politics?" Lizzy asked.  
  
"Through my DNA," the girl said with a smile. "My grandfather was a county commissioner here when I was a kid. But not one of the ones who went to jail."  
  
"Some of them went to jail?" said Will.  
  
"Yeah, something like two thirds of all the county commissioners in the state went to jail in the seventies. Kickbacks. Not Oklahoma's finest hour."  
  
"Yeah, but you've got a great state song," Lizzy pointed out. "Although Will back there hates a good musical."  
  
Katie laughed. "My high school's auditorium was built to get a Conestoga wagon on the stage. Probably half the high schools in the state were."  
  
Will changed the subject. "So did you see our event on the Osage reservation, Katie?"  
  
Lizzy's smile fell as Katie answered. "Yeah, I saw probably the last twenty minutes, after I got out of calculus. Governor Gardiner was really good."  
  
"What did you think of the closing remarks?"  
  
"Will," Lizzy warned.  
  
Katie cast a concerned glance at her before answering. "I thought it was good."  
  
"Please ignore him," Lizzy said to her. "He's having a nervous breakdown or something."  
  
"You thought the remarks were bad and you won't tell me why," he said sourly.  
  
"First of all, I never said the remarks were bad. Second, can we not have this argument in front of the nice volunteer who's taking time to help us?"  
  
He changed tack. "Katie, aren't you curious to know why Lizzy thought the remarks were bad?"  
  
Before Katie could answer, Lizzy let out a high-pitched noise of frustration. "Will, did you show those remarks to anyone before the Governor went on stage?"  
  
"There wasn't time."  
  
"And that's my problem."  
  
"Since when do you—"  
  
Lizzy twisted around to face him. "Did you not notice how the Governor tripped when she got to the part about crimes against women? It was a man's opinion and it sounded like it. You wrote about violence against women and didn't have an actual woman read it before the Governor was supposed to read it out loud."  
  
"Well, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."  
  
Her jaw dropped and she huffed out a sigh as she turned around again. Beside her, Katie laughed nervously. "You two are worse than an old married couple."  
  
They spent almost the rest of the drive to Tulsa International in silence.  
  


* * *

  
At the airport they found Jane booked them on a flight to St. Louis, and Will used his credit card and bumped them up to first class. Lizzy murmured her thanks, but otherwise she sat silently next to him in the terminal while they waited for their flight.  
  
He couldn't understand why they were fighting in the first place. He'd have thought this was just the stress of getting left behind, but no, it started before that. She wouldn't answer a simple question and it irritated him. Now he didn't want to bring it up for fear of another fight.  
  
When they boarded the plane and got to their seats, Will took her bag and stowed it overhead. "What have you got in there?" he asked, settling down next to her. "I wish I'd known it was so heavy. I would have helped before."  
  
"Laptop, some memos, couple water bottles, the new book on Lincoln's foreign policy... Oh, and the shoes I was wearing this morning."  
  
"Shoes?"  
  
"I always have extra shoes."  
  
"I suppose that explains the size of the bag."  
  
She didn't answer. She rubbed her temple for a minute before resting her head on his shoulder. "We shouldn't do this again."  
  
The seats across the aisle were empty and the flight attendants were otherwise occupied, so Will kissed the top of her head. "Spend an afternoon in rural Oklahoma?"  
  
"That too. I meant the fighting."  
  
With a rueful smile, he took her hand in his. "You know we're going to."  
  
"I know. I just... It was different before this," she replied, squeezing his hand. "I don't know how to explain it."  
  
"I know what you mean."  
  
She turned her head and kissed his shoulder, looking up at him with her big brown eyes, those eyes that held him captive from their first meeting. "I'm willing to agree to a truce, though."  
  
"What are your terms?" Will asked.  
  
"That the bus never leaves us behind again."  
  
As the pilot began to run through the preflight announcements, Will chuckled. "I'll do what I can, sweetheart."  
  
They got to St. Louis and found a room at a hotel that could dry clean their clothes overnight. The campaign was staying in Springfield and would be in St. Louis the next day for a noon rally. They plugged in phones and he read the news to her from her laptop. She leaned against him and he remembered her remark from the fundraiser night in South Carolina—this felt domestic. It made him want more.  
  
Less than a year ago he'd never heard of Elizabeth Bennet. Now he was having difficulty imagining what it would be like to be without her.  
  
Eventually he closed up the laptop and set it aside. "Considering we didn't work much after about two this afternoon, I'm exhausted."  
  
Still wrapped in hotel bathrobes, they settled under the covers and turned off the lights. "Yeah, but how many people get abandoned in a tallgrass prairie?" Lizzy said, snuggling up to him. "It'll be a great story to tell your kids."  
  
_Our kids_ , his mind immediately supplied, somewhat to his surprise.  
  
It was hard to keep the thought at bay, now that it had surfaced. As Lizzy fell asleep, Will remembered the quiet Christmas he and Gigi had spent in Pemberley, their hometown, this last year, and he wondered what it would be like with the woman in his arms. She had a strange way of making him feel at home no matter where he was. As he drifted off to sleep, it occurred to him that this was what falling in love was like.  
  
It had been years since Will felt this way. He was a different man now than the last time he let down his defenses so completely. More mature, he hoped, and more resilient.  
  
In the morning, though, those idle thoughts were forgotten, in part because he woke up alone. With the curtains drawn it was hard to tell what time it was. They didn't have to be downstairs before ten o'clock, though. Lizzy was an early riser, but this was just silly.  
  
"Lizzy," he said, turning to his back to see her hanging something in the closet.  
  
"I was just getting our clothes," she whispered.  
  
"Come back to bed, darlin'."  
  
"Well, when you put it that way."  
  
She crawled onto the bed, hovering over him, long brown hair hanging down in his face. Slowly she began to kiss his forehead, his cheek, his jaw, his neck. "Did you sleep well?" she asked, lips at his ear.  
  
Will hummed in contentment. "I did."  
  
"Good," Lizzy replied, sitting back and pulling away the sheets. "Time to get up. It's almost eight o'clock, and I know how long it takes you to shave."  
  
"Tease," he grumbled.  
  
"I can't really argue that."  
  
An hour later, they were both ready to go, and they went downstairs for a relaxed breakfast before the Gardiner bus arrived. The staffers and even the press made fun of them for having been left behind, but Will was already forgetting how much of the day they'd spent bickering. He'd do it all again in a heartbeat.


	8. Chapter 8

> _As an aside, I should note that anyone who claims to know with any certainty what's going to happen today is at best an idiot._
> 
> _Hal Preston, TwoSeventy.com, February 18, 2014_

  
Wisconsin was one of many states voting on Super Tuesday, so Gardiner for America camped in Madison for the day. Lizzy got to the campaign office early to do satellite interviews for all the morning shows and some local stations. The Governor and Dr. Gardiner were busy doing the same, although they were done with theirs first. By the time Lizzy finished her California spots, she was ready for lunch.  
  
Back at the Gardiner home—not the executive mansion, but their house—she found Will alone in the kitchen, chopping a mountain of vegetables. "Hi," he said. "You any good with a knife?"  
  
"Well, not as good as you," she replied, watching him dice an onion like a pro. "But I'm not a danger to society."  
  
He smiled and waved her over. "Come break down this broccoli. I've got to get the macaroni in the oven."  
  
The macaroni was for the kids. For the adults Will was throwing together a stir fry. "There won't be time to eat tonight. I figured a big lunch was a better idea."  
  
"Yeah, I'm just wondering when you learned to cook."  
  
"When I was a teenager," he said. "I thought it'd help me pick up girls."  
  
She put down her knife for a minute as she laughed. Will smiled, and he leaned in to kiss her.  
  
They'd hardly had a moment alone since St. Louis, so Lizzy wasn't surprised when a quick kiss lingered. In the month since New Hampshire, Will had learned exactly how to kiss her to drive her out of her mind. His lips moved slowly against hers and his hands went to her hips. He turned to press her against the cabinet, while his thumbs slipped up under her shirt, seeking bare skin and making her whimper.  
  
As she buried her fingers in his hair, a high squeal startled them both. Will stepped back abruptly; Lizzy straightened her shirt and turned to see who had come in.  
  
"Hannah," she said in relief, finding only the Gardiners' two-year-old. "Do you need something, peanut?"  
  
Hannah waved her sippy cup. "Empty."  
  
Lizzy refilled the cup with water, and Hannah was gone as quickly as she'd barged in. Will blew out a sigh. "At least it wasn't Jack."  
  
She let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah. Jack would have to be bribed."  
  
Will was quiet as they got back to cooking. Too quiet, really, and she had to ask. "Is something wrong?"  
  
There was tension around his mouth, and he slowed his knife. "Would it be so bad?" he asked.  
  
"Would what be so bad?"  
  
"If people found out. About us."  
  
Suddenly Lizzy felt cold. "What—what do you mean?"  
  
He set down the knife and looked at her skeptically. "You're not tired of trying to hide this?"  
  
"Will..."  
  
"I mean, what are we going to do if we win? We go work at the White House and what?" he asked. "Four years of sneaking around? I have a hard time believing that's what you want."  
  
"It's not," she replied, "but it's not that simple."  
  
"Yes, it is, Lizzy. We're adults. Do you want to be with me or not?"  
  
For a minute Lizzy couldn't speak. She couldn't look away from him either, and she saw the way his exp ****ression closed off as she failed to answer him. "Will," she pleaded.  
  
"Lizzy, I told you that night in Nashua," he said tersely. "This isn't because you're convenient, or so I can work off stress, or whatever excuses people come up with. I've wanted you for so long I can't even remember when it started. I want to be with you, Lizzy, and not just in bed. I'm not made for—for half-measures."  
  
It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her; it was a pity he looked so angry while he said it. "Neither am I, Will, but..."  
  
"No," he snapped. "No, there's no 'but' after that."  
  
"Will," she warned, her own temper rising. "Do you think I'm ashamed of this? Embarrassed to be seen with you?"  
  
"Well, since I can't imagine  _why_  you refuse to be seen with me..."  
  
"Will! I work for you! I know you're not forcing me into this and I'm not trying to take advantage of you, but do you know how this looks to other people?"  
  
"Who cares how it looks?"  
  
"I do!" she all but shouted. "I'm the face of this campaign, Will. More than that, I'm a woman doing a man's job, working for the first woman who's actually got a shot at breaking the last glass ceiling."  
  
He looked stunned. "Are you kidding me? You're sneaking around like this because of what some narrow-minded idiots on television are going to say?"  
  
Lizzy shook her head. "It's not just them. Do you know what people said about Jane when she and Chuck were found out?"  
  
"Then they were narrow-minded idiots too. Lizzy, do you not hear how crazy this is?"  
  
"How crazy this is," she repeated, her face flushing. "I have to say, Will, sometimes your lack of communication skills is so far beyond ironic that it's just sad."  
  
"Lizzy, I didn't..."  
  
She wasn't in a mood to give him a chance to talk his way around her. He called after her as she stormed out of the kitchen, but she didn't want to hear any more. Will always drove her crazy; he'd never made her quite so angry as this.  
  
The worst part was that she thought he'd understood. After Nashua, they talked about keeping private lives private. These jobs were once-in-a-lifetime and more important than personal considerations. Or at least Lizzy thought so. Beyond that, if they lost, who would hire her after she'd slept with her boss?  
  
Knowing she needed to calm down before anyone saw her, Lizzy stepped out the front door and stayed on the porch for a while. There was a tremendous amount of snow on the ground and the air was cold but she wanted to be in it. The chill would help her get control of herself before she had to face people.  
  
Before that could happen, her phone rang. She half-expected it to be Will, but instead she saw her stepfather's picture on the screen. He hardly ever called.  
  
"Hi, David," she said when she answered. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"Hello, Lizzy," he replied. "Listen, Princess, have you got a minute?"  
  
Something bad was happening. She could hear it in his voice. "David, what's wrong?"  
  


* * *

  
Margaret Gardiner had run for office plenty of times, but nothing had prepared her for a Presidential campaign. She strongly suspected nothing could. It was often exhausting, thrusting her all day into the company of people she had never met, would probably never meet again, but were her closest friends for the sixty seconds they were in her presence. She couldn't turn on the television without seeing an image of herself. She'd always been conscious of how she dressed, but now she felt as though she was growing obsessed.  
  
And of course, her kids missed her and she missed them desperately. Ed was great through everything, but Margaret missed him too, and only hoped the results would be worth the sacrifices they were making in their personal lives.  
  
Coming to Wisconsin for Super Tuesday was a nice change of pace, a return to normality, if only for a day. After finishing the satellite interviews that morning, she went to the state house without the Gardiner for America staff, wanting to thank those who had run the state government in her absence and those who went out campaigning for her. As a result, it was nearly lunchtime when she got back to the house.  
  
Wondering what was for lunch, she got out of her car and headed up to the front door, but she stopped short when she saw Lizzy Bennet sitting on the porch steps, sobbing.  
  
"Lizzy?" Margaret said, hurrying as fast as she dared on the slushy walkway. "Lizzy, what's wrong?"  
  
The young woman looked up from her phone, face red and tear-streaked. "My mom," she said, struggling to get her voice under control. "She was sick a couple years ago but it went into remission."  
  
"I know," Margaret replied, sitting next to her. "Cancer."  
  
Lizzy nodded. "My stepfather called. She went in for tests last week. The cancer has come back. They found out today there's nothing they can do. She's got a couple months, on the outside."  
  
"Oh, Lizzy," Margaret said, while the younger woman succumbed to tears again.  
  
Margaret wrapped her arms around her, letting her cry on her shoulder for several minutes. Her own mother died a few years ago, and she couldn't help but wonder if the suddenness of that death had been a blessing. It hadn't seemed so at the time, but she couldn't imagine what Lizzy was about to go through.  
  
Lizzy took a few deep, shuddering breaths and pulled away. "I'm sorry, ma'am."  
  
Margaret shook her head. "Please, don't apologize."  
  
"No, I mean—I need to take some time soon," she said. "After today we've got a couple weeks before the next primaries and I... I need to see my mom."  
  
"Lizzy, you need to go home now," Margaret told her gently. "And you should stay there for as long as you need to."  
  
Lizzy looked startled. "Governor, I made a commitment here."  
  
"And I'm telling you, this is more important than me. Is your mom still in the Chicago area?" Lizzy nodded, so Margaret continued, "Jane's driving down to O'Hare this afternoon for her next advance trip. She can take you to your family."  
  
"Ma'am, are you sure?"  
  
"I appreciate your commitment, Lizzy, but someone else can handle the media for a while. Your mother only has one daughter." Lizzy agreed to it, and together they stood. "I'll send Jane out, okay?"  
  
"Oh!" Lizzy cried. "Please, don't... don't tell everyone. I know Richard probably needs to know, but I just... I'm sorry. I just don't think I can handle all of..."  
  
She trailed off in tears again, and Margaret couldn't offer an objection. "I won't. It's not my business to tell everyone."  
  
She left Lizzy alone on the porch, leaning against one of the posts, and found Jane as quickly as she could. Jane looked alarmed as Margaret told her to get ready to leave earlier than planned, but she followed instructions, gathered her things and Lizzy's, and headed outside. Meanwhile, Margaret quietly pulled Richard into Hannah's bedroom and shut the door.  
  
"Governor, is something wrong?" he asked, frowning.  
  
"Lizzy's mother is sick, and it's terminal," Margaret told him. "She's going home."  
  
"Today?" Richard said, looking startled. "I'm sorry, that was...I'm sorry."  
  
She decided to let it slide. "She wouldn't be any good to us right now anyway, Rick."  
  
"I know. I wish I didn't have to think like this, but do you know when she's coming back?"  
  
"I don't know, but if it's as dire as reported, I don't think she should come back while her mother is still alive."  
  
"Of course," he replied, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Charlotte can deal with the reporters for now. She's pretty good with them anyway."  
  
Margaret nodded. "Lizzy doesn't want everyone knowing about this, so let's try to respect her privacy. Charlotte can know, but we shouldn't tell many more people."  
  
"What are we going to tell the press when they ask why Lizzy isn't around?"  
  
"That she has some personal matters to attend to. Hopefully they'll decide to write about other things."  
  
"We can only hope."  
  
Richard went back out. Margaret hung back in her daughter's bedroom, picking up yesterday's socks and enjoying the moment alone.  
  
Lizzy had been around for about eight months, she thought, and her coming to the campaign was a miracle. It wasn't an exaggeration to think that without Lizzy to manage the press, they never would have survived the summer, let alone positioned themselves to win the nomination. Richard had been an advisor on a failed primary bid four years ago, Will had been on the failed general election staff a few months later, and that was the extent of Margaret's staff's experience on the national stage. Lizzy had the instincts they'd needed.  
  
Richard was a born strategist; Charlotte was a brilliant tactician. Will and Chuck were both great writers on their own, and a force to be reckoned with together. Jane could organize an unruly mob, and had an amazing ability to manage people without them noticing they were being managed. They were an incredible team, and Margaret felt very fortunate to have them.  
  
She was hopeful they had their sea legs now and wouldn't run into too much trouble without their spokeswoman, but Lizzy would still be missed.  
  
No one reported on Lizzy's sudden absence that night, which led Margaret to hope political reporters were going to spend their time on Super Tuesday reporting on politics. She was going to win Wisconsin handily, of course, along with the other Midwestern states going to the polls today. Zwillick would take the South, New Jersey, and probably Arizona. California was looking closer than she liked, but Jim Fitzwilliam's endorsement was carefully timed for late in the game, to give them a free media boost. Washington and Idaho would be a draw.  
  
Later than usual, Margaret and Ed took their sleeping kids back to their bedrooms. "They're not going to wake up later, are they?" she asked.  
  
"I doubt it. They both fell asleep in the middle of that racket downstairs," Ed replied.  
  
Closing Jack's door behind him, he stopped her with a hand on her arm while they stood at the end of the dark hallway. With his other hand, he drew her in for a long, slow kiss. They got to kiss all the time when they were together, she thought in distraction, but never like this. Pecks on the cheek, acceptably brief kisses on the mouth, but never anything that reflected the reality of their marriage. That was all right, though. Ed was her partner in every sense of the word, but the public didn't need to know just how much she still wanted him.  
  
"Good to have you back, Meg," he said when he drew back. "Missed you."  
  
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hanging on to the moment as much as to him. He rubbed her back and kissed her cheek. "Hey, I don't know if you've noticed," he said quietly, "but does Will seem off to you tonight?"  
  
He had, actually, not so much quieter than usual, but more distant. "Now that you mention it."  
  
"That's not about Lizzy, is it?"  
  
Margaret sighed. "To be honest? Probably." In her admittedly limited spare time, she wondered occasionally about those two. They were both so intelligent and passionate, and it seemed like they'd rather fight with each other than live peaceably with anyone else. Margaret wasn't sure either of them would be willing to cross professional boundaries, but sometimes the attraction between them was electric, and impossible to miss.  
  
A cheer went up from the living room below, and Ed tugged her hand. "Come on," he said, grinning. "Let's go see who else was smart enough to vote for you."  
  
With a smile, Margaret led the way.  
  


* * *

  
Sometime after two in the morning, Will stumbled into his hotel room and into bed, still stunned by the disaster of the day.  
  
Since St. Louis, he found himself thinking more often than not about Lizzy and their relationship. There was some impropriety in it, but it wasn't so egregious it couldn't be overcome if they wanted to. And  _he_  wanted to, desperately.  
  
Once before he'd told a woman he loved her, and there had been a moment in the aftermath of that horror story when he thought he would never say it again. But he wanted to now. He'd thought tonight, after everything was over, he would tell her how he felt. He'd spent his nights alone imagining how she would react, with sweet, eager kisses, with quiet, urgent intimacy, and maybe even a confession of her own.  
  
He'd misplaced all his optimism for today. The campaign was doing better than he expected, yet his own plans were moot. He still couldn't believe Lizzy simply left. This argument was worse than others, but had she really left because of him? Was she so insecure, or arrogant, or hurt, that she would leave not only him but her job? It didn't make any sense, but why else would she go?  
  
Will slept poorly, his mind too wrapped up in memory and anger. In the morning, he dragged himself out of bed early—when Lizzy would have been up—and slowly started getting ready. He sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes before he remembered where they were going today. Colorado. Denver, he thought. As he finally got up and headed for the bathroom, he thought it was remarkable he could still function with all the time zone hopping he was doing.  
  
He went through his morning routine focusing on the individual acts, trying not to think. At work he thought he'd be all right, despite the vacuum Lizzy left. He'd have things to do. When he was alone, it would be too easy to think of her and indulge in pity. His father chastised him once for feeling sorry for himself, and since then he'd done what he could not to wallow. Even when his parents died, he'd done everything in his power to keep it together.  
  
He almost made it, too. He almost got through his routine without stopping to think, then he brought his razor to his face and paused, looking at himself in the mirror. Lizzy teased him about this that last morning they were together. Then she'd joined him in the bathroom and watched him shave. It made him self-conscious, but at the same time he loved it. He loved her, and loved that she wanted to be around him.  
  
He set the razor down and leaned heavily on the cheap countertop. He hardly recognized the face in the mirror. Dark circles under his eyes, lines new from a year before. More than that, he looked defeated, maybe because this wasn't raw betrayal he was dealing with. There was no George Wickham to hit in the face, no Caroline to throw out of his life. Lizzy simply left him, and he felt more alone now than before he knew she existed.  
  
He picked up the razor again, shaving slowly and carefully, knowing people would talk if he arrived looking any different than usual. He dressed, put on cuff links, a tie, armor to keep the world at bay.  
  
It nearly worked. On the plane to Colorado, no one approached him with anything but business. He spent his time reviewing remarks, reading polls, and studying Zwillick's latest events. Only in the evening did Richard stop by to talk about personal things. Pushing aside the memory of Lizzy bringing pie for these conversations, he glanced up from his laptop, waiting for his cousin to speak.  
  
After an awkward minute, Richard said, "You all right, man?"  
  
Will held his gaze briefly before turning back to his work. "Of course I am."  
  
"Somehow I don't believe you. Have you talked to her since..."  
  
"Richard."  
  
Richard held up his hands in surrender. "It's not my business. But you should talk to her. You of all people..."  
  
With a heavy sigh, Will snapped his laptop closed and walked away. He didn't stop walking until he was outside, where it had been snowing for a while. For a long time he stood with his hands in his pockets, watching the gathering flurries.  
  
He would get over this. If Lizzy could walk away, so could he. He would do his job, forget the hurt, forget the anger, and forget her.  
  


* * *

  
It was a two-hour drive from Madison to Geneva. Jane hardly said a word while she took Lizzy back to her mother's house. When they got there, Jane helped get her bags out of the trunk, then embraced her. They stood in the street with Lizzy crying again, until Jane could stay no longer. "Call me, okay?" Jane said. "Doesn't matter when. If you just need to talk or scream or hear someone else for a while..."  
  
"Thank you, Janie," Lizzy replied, impulsively kissing her friend's cheek.  
  
"It's what friends do, Lizzy."  
  
Lizzy gathered her things and walked up the snow-covered drive to the house, where someone was peeking through the curtains in the front room. Jane waited until Lizzy was inside to drive away.  
  
The family was there to greet her, just like Thanksgiving and Christmas, but Lizzy was startled by the change in mood. Only little Julie was acting like herself, although once she moderated her voice and said, "An'Liz, Grandma's sick. We have to be quiet."  
  
"You do not," Fran said from the other side of the room. "Come here, sweetheart."  
  
Julie ran off to her grandmother's indulgence and Lizzy followed. Her mother looked so, so sick, so weak, and Lizzy blinked back fresh tears.  
  
"None of that," Fran said to her when Lizzy sat beside her. "How long will you be here? I'm surprised you could come at all today."  
  
"As long as I need to be, Mom," Lizzy replied, taking her mother's hand and not letting go for a long time.  
  
There was no call from Will that night, but she didn't expect one just yet. She knew he could be stubborn when he was angry, and even she wanted him to cool off before talking with her again. But he didn't call the second night, or the third, and soon a week had gone by with nothing.  
  
Lizzy didn't understand it. She knew parts of his past, knew his parents died in a car accident years ago. And he knew about her mother, knew she had given up a job she loved in order to help when her mother was sick the first time. Was there no empathy in him after all? She wanted to slap him for the things he'd said about her concerns over their relationship, but was he really so angry with her he couldn't say he was sorry about her mother?  
  
After a couple weeks she stopped expecting to hear from him. After a month, she stopped hoping. And in a couple months, maybe she could stop being angry too.


	9. Chapter 9

> _Both the Gardiner and Zwillick campaigns are starting to suffer. Fatigue is to be expected when the primary contest drags on like this. But I think the Gardiner side is starting to lose its magic. I can't put my finger on why._
> 
> _Andrew Jefferson, aka The Purple Politic, April 11, 2014_

  
After her parents' divorce, Lizzy only got to spend a couple weeks a year with her father, except for the summer she spent in the Alps visiting him and his third wife. She spent much of her time sightseeing with her Swiss and French cousins, going to medieval castles and towns all around the region. It was an amazing experience for a sixteen-year-old, but even twelve years later, she was more likely to remember a conversation with her father than anything she saw.  
  
He came to get her at the train station one afternoon (unusual, as she always walked to his apartment) and saw her first flirting with a local boy and then giggling with her female cousins about it. On the way home, he said to her, "Do not act like your mother, Élisée, or at least keep it out of my face." The rebuke was doubly stinging because he delivered it in English, instead of the French he almost always insisted upon.  
  
"What do you mean, like my mother?" she'd asked.  
  
"Chasing boys like it's an Olympic sport."  
  
He refused to say more, even when Lizzy got past her mortification to ask what he meant. That night, she managed to speak to Valerie, her father's wife, a woman not that much older than her, really. Valerie only smiled sadly and said, "You are a very intelligent girl, Lizzy. Your father expects great things from you."  
  
"My mother's written eleven bestsellers."  
  
"Your father is a respected physicist. I am sure your mother is a lovely woman, but..."  
  
"She's too wrapped up in girly things?"  
  
Valerie shook her head. "She is not a physicist."  
  
"Neither are you."  
  
Lizzy wasn't surprised to hear six months later that her father had left Valerie.  
  
She'd grown up hearing how much she was like her father, traits which seemed to drive her mother crazy at times. Her parents' divorce had been swift. Lizzy understood now that Thomas had a mistress and Fran had no intention of living with his infidelity. There was plenty of acrimony; ten years after the divorce, Lizzy could still see it.  
  
Thomas Bennet was seemingly incapable of lasting relationships. Seven years with Fran was the longest he'd managed, as far as Lizzy knew. He'd been married and divorced four times. Lizzy was fairly sure that her adulthood reflected the worst of her parents' tendencies. She liked to flirt, liked pursuing and being pursued, maybe more than actual relationships. She'd never cheated on anyone, but she'd never stuck around for long either. At twenty-eight, she was beginning to think that didn't reflect well on her.  
  
And then she met Will. He was handsome and infuriating and so well suited to her that she couldn't imagine why she hadn't seen him that way from the beginning. Of course, she had been attracted to him the minute he stepped into her office in Los Angeles. That they had lasted so long before one of them snapped was remarkable. Normally it wouldn't take her so long to make a move or move on.  
  
That was Will, though. He was deliberate and careful in everything.  
  
Seven weeks and four days had passed since Super Tuesday and Lizzy still hadn't heard from him. She talked to Jane and Richard occasionally, but curiously neither of them mentioned him at all. She was too embarrassed and too preoccupied with her mother to ask.  
  
Fran's condition was exactly as the doctors predicted. For the first three weeks, she was only tired, with raspy, watery breathing and a bad cough. Not long after, she went downhill fast. It hurt Lizzy immeasurably to watch, but she loved her mother too much to step away.  
  
They had conversations like nothing was wrong. They watched the news together and Lizzy pretended the election coverage wasn't killing her. At least Will hated being on camera, so the chance of seeing him was slim. It was a small mercy, as was Fran's ignorance of what had transpired.  
  
But it turned out Fran wasn't as blind to it as Lizzy imagined. One evening they watched sitcoms indifferently until Fran turned the television off and sighed. "So are you going to tell me what's going on, Elizabeth?"  
  
"What do you mean, Mom?"  
  
"When you were a teenager I couldn't pry you away from the news. You talked politics so much that David worried about taking you with us when friends invited us for dinner. Now you turn away or change the channel when the election comes up." She coughed, and Lizzy watched in helpless worry until the fit subsided. "Lizzy," Fran continued, though somewhat out of breath, "you didn't have to give up your work to prove you love me."  
  
"Mom," she protested, "you can't imagine I wouldn't be here for you now."  
  
"I don't want you miserable. Now or when I'm gone."  
  
Lizzy swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. "I don't have to have my dream job to be happy with my life. I was happy at Schierson even though I was bored."  
  
"Then why..." Her mother frowned. "Lizzy, were you seeing someone?"  
  
Blushing, she turned away. "Mom."  
  
"You got involved with a coworker?"  
  
"Yes," she admitted. "Someone I was working for. It was incredibly reckless. We... argued."  
  
"Sweetheart, you argue with everyone."  
  
Suddenly Lizzy laughed, when moments before she'd wanted to cry. "Yeah, we enjoyed arguing. But this was different. It was about us. He wanted to stop trying to keep it quiet. I thought it would end my career."  
  
"And not his?"  
  
She shrugged. "That's how the world works." Blinking back tears, she looked down at her hands. "I could accept that he didn't express himself well. I know he talks before he thinks sometimes."  
  
"So why did it end?"  
  
Lizzy didn't want to tell the truth, but for all that she was smarter than her mother, Fran had learned long ago to tell when she was lying. "David called, and Will never did."  
  
Fran reached for Lizzy's hand, and Lizzy tried not to think about how cold her mother's skin was. "I'm sorry, Lizzy."  
  
"I'm okay, Mom," Lizzy told her, not wanting her mother to go without knowing that she'd survive this. "Yeah, it hurt. It still hurts, if I'm honest. But it won't always."  
  
"Oh, my sweet baby girl," Fran said with a sad smile. "Twenty-two years since I found out Thomas was cheating on me, and it still hurts."  
  
"This wasn't like that."  
  
"Pain doesn't have an expiration date, Lizzy. It changes, but some things never go away."  
  
This time Lizzy didn't try to check her tears. "Sometimes I forget you have a way with words."  
  
"Where do you think you got that from? Not from your father."  
  
That set them both into a fit of giggles, and Lizzy clung to the hope that when it was all over, she would remember the laughter more than the tears.  
  
That night, she lay awake in her old bedroom thinking about what her mother said. Some days she was still furious with Will, but most of the time it was just a dull, lingering pain. And why? Because he hadn't called? Because he'd insulted her? Why would it be worth her heartache?  
  
Why would Fran still harbor that hurt from Thomas' betrayal? There was only one plausible explanation. Lizzy knew how much her mother loved David, but surely the pain wouldn't last this long if she didn't still love Thomas, even if only a little.  
  
When Lizzy started crying again, she was grateful for the darkness and solitude of the night. She turned over to muffle the sound in her pillow. It all made sense now. It was why she hadn't lost interest in Will when he took things slow. It was why she was willing to abandon her professional scruples. It was why everything was different with him, even why seven weeks and four days of silence hurt so badly.  
  
She was in love with him.  
  


* * *

  
Richard was surprised when Chuck came to him with a draft of remarks for a fundraiser. Will normally handled these things, especially at this level, and Richard was happier not having to play critic to his cousin, who was a much better writer. He intended to give the text a cursory glance but paused when some of the phrases sank in. "This, uh, isn't your best work, Chuck," he said, trying to be diplomatic.  
  
"It's not mine," the younger man replied. "Will wrote that."  
  
"Will wrote this?"  
  
"Yeah. He's in a real slump. I've been doing what I can to take up the slack, but we're hoping to have a convention speech to write this summer and it can't sound like this."  
  
"Yeah, no," Richard agreed. "I'll try to come up with something, Chuck."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Chuck took his tablet back, and Richard went looking for Jane a few minutes later. They were supposed to meet in the afternoon on another matter, and he was pretty sure she'd be ready for that meeting if he dropped by. She was really far too accommodating, but for now he'd take advantage.  
  
They were practically camped out in Ohio in advance of the primary. Jane had her own office here, from which she was directing surrogates and volunteers alike. Since Super Tuesday they had raised enough money to hire a couple assistants for Jane, letting them do the advance work and freeing her to manage the campaign schedule, a task so complex there probably weren't more than a dozen people who could do it really well. Richard was still surprised sometimes that Jane started off as a volunteer.  
  
They talked through the plans for the Texas primary and caucus, because Jane had the information at hand when he walked in. Then Richard turned his attention to the bigger problem. "Chuck showed me a draft Will was working on."  
  
Jane frowned. "Me too. You think this is about Lizzy?"  
  
"I haven't seen him smile since she left." Richard sat back in his seat and sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I should have told them to stop seeing each other."  
  
"That's not really fair, Richard."  
  
"I know, but I need Will to write things that aren't stuffed to the gills with dangling modifiers."  
  
"Has he talked to you about her?"  
  
"No. I tried a couple times, but he looked like he was coming up with ways to dispose of my body."  
  
Jane cracked a smile despite their topic of conversation. "Lizzy's never mentioned him, but she's got other things on her mind." On the desk, a cell phone started buzzing, and Jane picked it up. "Speak of the devil," she said, answering it. "Hi, Lizzy. You're on speaker with Richard and me."  
  
"Hi, Jane, Richard," Lizzy answered. She sounded not just tired but wrung out. "I just wanted you to know, we brought Mom to the hospital yesterday. She needs to be on oxygen and it... It's not going to be long."  
  
"Lizzy, I'm so sorry," Jane replied.  
  
Richard leaned toward the phone. "Is there anything we can do?"  
  
"I don't know, but thank you, Richard. You've been incredibly kind already."  
  
Jane grabbed a pen and paper. "Lizzy, give me the hospital and the room number. The Governor will want to call, and I know hospitals aren't always wild about cell phones."  
  
As Lizzy gave the information, Richard looked over his shoulder and was startled to see Will in the open doorway. He looked absolutely shell-shocked as Jane wrapped up the call. Richard frowned at him, but Will didn't seem to notice.  
  
"Is Lizzy sick?" he asked when Jane hung up.  
  
Richard and Jane looked at each other with identical horrified exp ****ressions. "You didn't know?" Jane said.  
  
Will stepped into the office, clearly almost terrified. "What's wrong with her?"  
  
"Will," Richard said, getting up, "it's not Lizzy."  
  
"What do you mean? That was her on the phone! She gave you a hospital room!"  
  
"It's not Lizzy who's sick," Jane said, coming around the desk. "It's her mother. Her mother is dying."  
  
"Her mother is... Her mother is dying," Will repeated. "That's why she left? Why didn't anyone tell me?"  
  
"We thought you knew," Richard said. "Why wouldn't you know?"  
  
Will wiped his hand over his mouth, and Richard reached out to grab his cousin's shoulder. "We had a fight, she stormed off, and the next thing I knew, the Governor was announcing that Lizzy was taking a leave of absence."  
  
"And you thought she left because of you?" Richard laughed mirthlessly. "Will, sometimes your ego is a thing to behold."  
  
Will didn't have a clever rejoinder. Instead, he fled the room, leaving them to follow.  
  
It was hard to keep up with him as he rushed through the headquarters like a man possessed. He was heading toward the Governor's office, and when Jane and Richard caught up to him, they were relieved to see the Governor was alone when Will barged in. "What's going on?" Governor Gardiner said, looking at the three of them before focusing on Will.  
  
"Governor, I have to get to Chicago," he said.  
  
She looked at him for a long moment, then back at Richard and Jane. "Can you provide some context?"  
  
"He heard me talking to Lizzy about her mother," Jane replied.  
  
Margaret's gaze snapped back to Will. "You didn't know," she said. "I'm sorry, Will. She asked me to keep it as private as possible. I never dreamed you didn't know."  
  
Will sank into a chair and looked at the floor. "Ma'am, Lizzy and I were... involved. She was concerned about people finding out. I thought she was embarrassed."  
  
"You'd had a fight when she left."  
  
He nodded. "I never called her. She must think I'm a monster."  
  
The Governor looked at Richard in silent question, and he nodded. "Give her our condolences, Will," she said. "For the record, I don't think there's any amount of groveling that would be too much."  
  
Will got up and nodded again. "Thank you, ma'am."  
  
He left without another word. A moment later, Jane said, "I'll get him a flight."  
  
When she was gone, Richard closed the door and stood by it. "You knew about them?" Margaret asked.  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
"I assume this is why Will can't string two decent sentences together anymore."  
  
"He's had slumps before, but probably."  
  
Margaret sighed. "I hope he can fix this."  
  
"Lizzy said her mother doesn't have much longer."  
  
"His timing could be worse."  
  
Richard shook his head. "Will lost his parents, too. He'll remember. And he'll find his voice again."  
  


* * *

  
Despite the urgent need to see Lizzy, Will spent most of the trip to Chicago thinking about his parents. George and Anne had gone to a company party, leaving Gigi on her own at night for the first time. On their way home, they were hit by a drunken teenager who blew through a red light. Anne was declared dead on arrival at the hospital, and Will spent the entire flight across the country praying he would get there in time to say goodbye to his father. Then came the days of waiting with his sister for the inevitable to happen.  
  
Once in Chicago he rented a car at the airport and drove nearly an hour to a hospital in the western suburbs. It was the middle of the afternoon and he was a little surprised by the volume of traffic. Along the way, he tried to think of what he would say when he found Lizzy, wondering if he should have had Jane warn Lizzy that he was coming. He wasn't sure that would make anything easier, but he was full of doubts.  
  
After he parked in the garage, he began to feel something like panic. Was this really a good idea? He didn't know what he could say, let alone how she would react to seeing him again. For all that he could write, he'd never been good at talking. That was how he'd ended up in this predicament in the first place. Beyond the fear, though, he still ached for her, and needed to say  _something_ , even if she threw him out of her life for good afterward.  
  
With that resolution to give him more courage than he really felt, Will went into the hospital lobby, consulted a directory, and found an elevator. The ride up to the fifth floor seemed to take an eternity, but when he finally stepped out of the elevator, he immediately found his quarry. Lizzy was waiting for the elevator.  
  
She wasn't paying attention to her surroundings, hugging herself and looking out a window while waiting for him to get out. It seemed he was going to have to make the first move now too. "Lizzy," he said, surprised when his voice nearly cracked.  
  
Her whole body went stiff, and he stepped out of the elevator just before the doors closed between them. "Lizzy," he repeated, barely above a whisper.  
  
She turned slightly and looked up. "What are you doing?"  
  
He took another step closer. "I... I needed to see you."  
  
"No," she said, shaking her head. Her voice rose as she continued. "No. Two months ago, maybe, but now? Why are you... What kind of... What horrible excuse for a human being are you?"  
  
"Lizzy..."  
  
"No, you don't get to ride in here and apologize! It's been two months, Will! Where were you all this time?"  
  
"Lizzy, I didn't know!" he said, words tumbling forth now. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lizzy, but I didn't know until six hours ago. I heard you on the phone with Jane and that was the first I knew of it. I just got on a plane. I'm sorry. I didn't know."  _Please, please believe me,_  he silently added.  
  
He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but she was trembling more and more as he spoke. Silence stretched between them as Will held his breath. Then Lizzy squeezed her eyes shut, bowed her head, and began to sob.  
  
If he had taken a moment to think, he might not have closed the distance between them. He might not have pulled her into his arms or pressed a kiss to the top of her head while she cried. But for once he acted on instinct and didn't regret it. Lizzy leaned on him heavily and he held her, praying she wouldn't push him away.  
  
He didn't know how long they stood there. When Lizzy stopped crying, she didn't move at first, and Will tried not to think of how good it was to hold her. Despite all his misplaced anger, he'd been unable to exorcise her from his imagination. He couldn't forget how she felt in his arms, the deep, aching need she could inspire just by smiling at him. But the last six hours had taught him he was still in love with her, and it wasn't just raw desire that had haunted him since she left.  
  
She took a deep, shuddering breath and moved away. Will let her go, watching her carefully. She wiped her eyes and visibly swallowed. "Why are you here, Will?"  
  
"I couldn't apologize for this over the phone," he said. "And the Governor told me there's no such thing as too much groveling."  
  
She let out a quiet laugh, seeming to surprise herself with it. "She's a smart woman."  
  
"Yeah, she is." Will reached to touch her cheek, brushing tears away. "Lizzy."  
  
"Will, I..."  
  
He let his hand drop away and gestured to the elevator. "You were going somewhere."  
  
She nodded. "There's a coffee shop downstairs."  
  
"Can I come with you?"  
  
Something like the familiar light was back in her eyes, if only for a moment. "I'm sure you  _can_ , Darcy."  
  
He laughed and hit the button for the elevator. "Come along, Elizabeth."  
  
They didn't have to wait long, and as they stepped into the car, Lizzy took his hand lightly. Will looked down but held his tongue. "We're not okay," she said quietly, dropping his hand. "I don't know if we'll ever be okay. But thank you for coming."  
  
"Always, Lizzy," he told her as the elevator started down. "Always, no matter where you are."  
  
She bit down on her lower lip as it started to tremble. They weren't okay, and Will could accept it was going to take a lot of time and a lot of work if they were ever going to be okay. Still, he put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close, relieved when she leaned into him again, this time without tears.  
  
As they walked to the coffee shop, he talked about the campaign, telling her about the people and other things she wouldn't have heard on the news. She asked how they were feeling about Ohio and Texas, what their plans were for the rest of the primaries, and what the general mood in the campaign was about their chances. He had questions too, but as they headed to the oncology ward, he knew he would have answers about her mother soon enough.  
  
While they sipped their coffee, waiting again for the elevator, he stared at her, realizing he missed this too. He saw how she blushed when she sensed he was watching her. "Is there something on my face?" she asked, glancing at him.  
  
He shook his head. "You cut your hair."  
  
"Yeah, a couple weeks ago." She touched her bob self-consciously. "I donated twelve inches of it."  
  
Will had wanted to complain; he loved the feel of her long hair in his hands, against his skin. But with that explanation he couldn't fault her.  
  
Neither of them said anything else until they were back on the fifth floor. By then Lizzy was fidgeting, and it surely wasn't the caffeine. "Look, Will, Mom is... getting worse fast. This isn't..."  
  
An image of his father in intensive care flashed through his mind. "It's all right. I know it's not..." He trailed off, wondering how much he should tell her. "You know about my parents, right?"  
  
"You told me they died in a car crash."  
  
Will nodded. "My family was incredibly supportive, but everyone had lost a daughter or a nephew or a cousin. There wasn't anyone close to me who wasn't drowning in grief too. It sounds selfish, but..."  
  
"You really didn't have anyone outside your family?"  
  
He recalled a conversation from months ago, not long before Nashua. "How many people do you really love, Lizzy?" She looked down at their shoes, but he gently tipped her chin up again. "My point is, I've been here. I'm not sure how much I can help, but I want to. It's the least I can do."  
  
She nodded. "I told Mom about you. She may not be happy to meet you."  
  
"Well, I deserve it."  
  
She didn't disagree.  
  
When they reached the room, Will wasn't surprised Lizzy had such trouble describing her mother's condition. Fran was beyond thin and hooked up to countless machines. Will could sense the way Lizzy steeled herself as they entered the room, and he wondered if he would have handled it half as well if he'd been in this position when his parents died.  
  
There were four other adults in the room. The men he took to be Lizzy's stepfather and stepbrothers. They all looked up when Lizzy returned with a stranger. "Lizzy?" the older man said. "Everything okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I, uh, a friend from the campaign stopped by," she said. "This is Will Darcy. Will, my stepfather, David Ostrowski, my stepbrothers, Caleb and Joe, and Caleb's wife Joanna."  
  
"Good to meet you," Will said, nodding to them.  
  
Lizzy moved to her mother's side and touched her hand very gently. "Mom?" she said, and her mother turned her head slightly to look at her. Lizzy glanced back at Will quickly, and he took that as his cue to step forward. "Mom, this is Will. Will, Fran Bennet."  
  
Fran looked past Lizzy to Will, then reached to lift up her oxygen mask. "He's a very handsome man, Lizzy."  
  
She laughed. "Yes, yes, he is," she agreed, and Will found his ears getting hot.  
  
"Finally saw fit to call?" the older woman asked. Her breathing had a distinct rattle, something that called to mind his father's last hours.  
  
"I'm sorry for upsetting your daughter so much, ma'am," he replied, figuring it couldn't hurt to grovel to Lizzy's mother too. "I came as soon as I heard."  
  
"Well, if she can forgive you, I suppose I can."  
  
He smiled, and without thinking too much he brushed his fingers against the back of Lizzy's hand. When she grasped his hand, he felt more content than he had in months.  
  
As the day progressed, Fran seemed to rouse. She adjusted the bed to sit up; her cough didn't abate and she still needed the oxygen mask, but she talked more with the family than Will expected. But Lizzy and the rest didn't seem as cheered by this as he would have thought. He would have felt like an intruder in any case, but he was certainly missing something.  
  
That evening he went with Lizzy's sister-in-law Joanna to pick up her daughter and get dinner for everyone. The girl was sweet and charming, reminding him a little of the Gardiners' daughter and more than a little of his own sister. She was too young to understand what was going on, but she seemed to buoy the spirits of the room when they arrived.  
  
Evening turned to night, and Will settled at Lizzy's side. Across from him Joanna had her daughter in her lap, Caleb and Joe on either side with David across from Lizzy at the head of the bed. Joanna was from California and met Caleb at Berkeley, so Will found he had something to talk about as Fran grew quiet.  
  
It was hard not to think of sitting with Gigi, watching their father's life slip away over the course of days. This vigil was comparatively brief. Lizzy and Fran talked about Fran's first days in Switzerland and Lizzy's first days in America. Fran fell asleep holding Lizzy's hand, and eventually the alarms went off.  
  
Nurses and a doctor swarmed in. Will pulled Lizzy to her feet and away from the bed. She was shaking her head as he held her back. He tried to reassure her, head bent low to murmur in her ear while he rubbed her shoulders. She leaned back against him as the alarms kept going. Will slipped his arms around her waist and kept silent.  
  
It was over in a few minutes. The doctor declared a time of death and told the family to take their time. Will let go of Lizzy when she tried to move away, and she went back to her chair, taking her mother's hand and sobbing with her head down on the mattress.  
  
Will felt a tightness in his throat as he watched her. At first he reached down and stroked her hair, knowing from experience she needed a connection with the living now. He looked to the other side of the room and met David's gaze. He was crying, one of his sons embracing him, and he nodded at Will. Taking it as a cue to take care of Lizzy, Will sat down beside her again, first just holding her free hand, and then leaning down with her, embracing her as best he could, trying to give her comfort.  
  
It wasn't enough, and there was nothing he could do to make it better. That much he remembered. But he would try, and in the end he knew that was all he could do.  
  
It was well past midnight before they left the hospital. Will followed the others to the Ostrowski house. David insisted he stay with them instead of trying to find a hotel room at that hour. Lizzy was about to collect linens for the guest room until Will stayed her. "Lizzy, I can shift for myself," he said gently, catching her hands. "Just tell me where to go."  
  
He'd chosen the wrong place to stop her. They were at the end of the hallway at the back of the house, with family pictures hung on either side. Lizzy looked around at the images and burst into tears.  
  
Will pulled her close, one hand cupping the back of her head while she cried and cried against his chest. He rested his cheek against her hair, trying to stop the powerful trembling in his own body. At the hospital he'd tried to keep this at bay, but it was too much. Twelve years had passed and he still felt all the force of his parents' deaths. In another twelve years he imagined he would still feel it just as vividly: the shock, the anger that he couldn't  _do_  anything, the fear of the huge responsibility left on his shoulders. For a moment, he needed Lizzy at least as much as she needed him.  
  
When he calmed himself a little, he kissed the top of her head, her temple, her cheek. He would have stopped there, but Lizzy lifted her head and looked at him. Her face was tear-streaked, her eyes red, and he had never seen a woman more beautiful than the one in his arms. He leaned in and she met him halfway.  
  
When they'd kissed before, things always started out slow, even sweet, but not tonight. They were both too raw for gentleness. Lizzy's tongue was in his mouth almost immediately, making him groan. Her hands grabbed his hair, holding him in place, as though there was a chance of him pushing her away. He touched her restlessly, until finally he grabbed her hips and pushed her back into the wall with a soft thud.  
  
He knew this was dangerous even before she shifted her body against his and made him moan again. He knew he needed to stop, but it was the sound of footsteps on the stairs that made him pull away. Lizzy looked up at him with dark eyes and pulled him into the nearest room, which he realized was hers, once he could think past the fog of raw need.  
  
"Lizzy," he breathed, touching her cheek and resting his forehead against hers while he kicked the door closed. "Lizzy, darlin', I didn't come here for this."  
  
Belatedly he remembered her words in Nashua, and he could have kicked himself. Fortunately Lizzy had mercy on him. "I know," she replied in kind. "And I didn't—I don't..."  
  
"It's okay, sweetheart. I know we're not okay." He kissed her chastely, while struggling to keep his hands from wandering.  
  
"I don't want to be alone tonight," she said in a small voice, with new tears in her eyes.  
  
"Then let me stay. I can sleep in a chair if you want."  
  
That almost got her to smile. "In the rolly chair?" she asked, nodding toward a desk in the corner.  
  
"Okay, maybe not in a chair," he replied, rolling his eyes.  
  
She didn't say anything more. Taking his hand, she led him to her bed, where they settled together on top of the covers. Will held her close, her body spooned against his. He listened as her breathing slowed and felt her body relax in his arms. Then he pressed one last kiss to her shoulder and whispered, "I love you."


	10. Chapter 10

> _Fran Bennet, author, 1964-2014_
> 
> _Frances Julia Ostrowski lived a life worthy of the romance novels that bear her pen name. At the age of twenty she met and married the noted Swiss physicist Thomas Bennet, with whom she had her only child, Elizabeth. She lived in Geneva, Switzerland for seven years before divorcing Bennet and moving back to Chicago with her daughter. Then, three years later she married David Ostrowski and became stepmother to his sons, Caleb and Joseph. These ten years of her life became the basis of her first two bestselling novels, books that bucked the traditions of the industry of romance novels._

  
A week after burying her mother, and three days before the Texas madness, Lizzy rejoined Gardiner for America.  
  
The morning after Fran's death, Lizzy woke early, a little surprised to find herself still in Will's arms. It was a familiar feeling, yet at the same time, she could hardly remember what it was like before. The last two months had left her utterly spent. Will's actions probably would have astonished her, if only she'd been able to feel much of anything other than the dread of impending loss.  
  
He stayed in Geneva four days. He didn't try to talk about their relationship, just helped her and her family. To her immense surprise, he talked to all of them and to many of the neighbors and friends who came by to offer condolences. On the second day, he came to Lizzy and David with a draft of an obituary.  
  
During her absence, Lizzy paid enough attention to the campaign to suspect Will was going through a rough phase with his writing. This, however, was inspired. He had listened to family stories, looked through picture albums, even talked to Fran's agent, and he composed a portrait of her too-short life. Lizzy was touched beyond measure that he had used his tremendous gift to honor a woman he only knew for a few hours, and in her heart she knew he had done it for her.  
  
With fresh tears in her eyes, she passed the text to David, remembering the night of Fran's death. As she drifted off to sleep, she could have sworn Will whispered he loved her. Reading his tribute to her mother's life, she knew she had heard correctly.  
  
Will left a few hours after the funeral. Neither of them said anything about it, but Lizzy knew he had stayed far longer than the campaign could spare him. She needed him, and she was glad he had chosen her over the campaign.  
  
She met up with the campaign again in Dallas. Despite her previous desire for privacy, everyone knew about her mother's death. The beautiful obituary had been in the  _Chicago Tribune_ , and one of the reporters reading that section of the paper had seen Lizzy's name in it. She found she didn't mind, as it meant she didn't have to explain her absence or return to anyone.  
  
Knowing that she was coming back, several members of the press went in together to buy a cake to celebrate her return. Chuck Bingley and Charlotte Lucas were in on it too, grateful they wouldn't have to brief the press anymore. The staff had grown while she was away, but each person she knew gave her a big hug. The senior staff was in a meeting with the Governor, all standing in the middle of the campaign office when she arrived. Margaret herself suspended the meeting to welcome Lizzy back, followed by a chorus from the rest.  
  
Will was the last one to embrace her, and she lingered with him. "You okay?" he murmured when she pulled away, and she nodded.  
  
He looked ready to turn back to business, but Lizzy remembered what he had said to her and what he had written for her. She was suddenly seized by the desire to give him some sort of encouragement. As the meeting resumed, she reached for him again, lacing their fingers together and holding his hand tightly.  
  
On the other side of the group, Chuck saw the motion. He stared at them with his mouth hanging open until Richard elbowed him. Lizzy blushed but didn't relinquish Will's hand. She wasn't brave enough to look up at him, but she felt him squeeze her hand, as though making sure it was real.  
  
When the meeting concluded and the group dispersed, Lizzy went back to work. Everyone she dealt with had questions or comments, and by the end of the morning she was feeling exhausted. At least the main press pool already knew why she left and why she had come back.  
  
The campaign left Dallas for Austin that afternoon. The bus ride was three or four hours; about halfway through, Lizzy was passed a note asking her to come to the candidate's makeshift office in the back. She was not surprised to find Will and Richard there. Without being asked, she shut the door behind her.  
  
"Have a seat, Lizzy," the Governor said, and Lizzy did as she was told. "Will told me before he went to Chicago that you and he had been involved. I understand Richard knew as well."  
  
She looked between the cousins, and because she couldn't think of anything else, she said, "I see."  
  
"I'm not going to order you to do anything," Margaret said quietly, "and I won't as long as everyone is doing their jobs, mostly because I suspect it wouldn't do any good. I hope you both understand how sorely I'm tempted." Lizzy remembered then that the Governor had once been a Navy officer. This kind of fraternization would rankle, and Lizzy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She was vaguely comforted when the Governor shot the same look at Richard, not quite disapproving but somehow more than just disappointed. "It puts the rest of us in an awkward position as far as command structure goes, but we'll work it out."  
  
"It was never a problem before, ma'am," Lizzy said. "I don't see it becoming one."  
  
Governor Gardiner raised a brow. "I beg to differ, Lizzy. You two had one fight and Will couldn't write for two months."  
  
Will bristled, clearly about to defend himself, but Lizzy laughed, remembering her mother's incredulity that only one fight had caused such a rift. "I'm sorry," she said, seeing the Governor's frown. "You just reminded me of something my mom said."  
  
The Governor's exp ****ression softened. "Well, hopefully we won't have to have this conversation again."  
  
"I think we can be adults, Governor," Will said, getting up.  
  
Lizzy looked at him skeptically. "One of us, anyway."  
  
Margaret smiled. "It's good to have you back, Lizzy."  
  
When Lizzy and Will left the back of the bus he was frowning at her slightly. "You know, we never really talked about..."  
  
"I know," she replied. "I did sort of make a declaration this morning."  
  
"You did." Still standing in the middle of the bus, he took her hand and kissed her palm. Strangely, it was the intensity in his eyes that made her breath catch. "We should talk, though. Soon."  
  
"Tonight," Lizzy agreed, and she tried not to let herself freak out over the prospect.  
  


* * *

  
They had a fundraiser in Austin that night with half a dozen bands playing live. Lizzy was working the event, talking to the crowd between sets. Will slipped backstage during one set, holding Lizzy and swaying with the music. It felt so good to hold her again, and selfishly he was glad it wasn't to comfort her. He'd remembered so many things imperfectly—the smell of her soap, how small she was, the timbre of her laugh. It was good to reacquaint himself with her.  
  
Those few minutes reminded him of what else he desperately wanted to reacquaint himself with. They hadn't even talked about reconciliation, yet he was already catching himself fantasizing about her with absolutely no provocation. That afternoon on the bus, she'd bent over her tablet to shield the screen from the setting sun, and he had all sorts of thoughts centered on the elegant curve of her neck, now exposed to his scrutiny all the time. It was another reason to hope she didn't keep her hair short. He didn't get anything done until she moved to talk to someone on the other side of the bus.  
  
That night he followed her into her hotel room, wondering if maybe they should have this conversation in a more public place. Lizzy, though, stepped into the bathroom to change into her pajamas, and the fact that she didn't change in front of him when he'd seen her naked told him she wasn't ready for more.  
  
He was standing around the room feeling more than a little awkward when she came out again. "I suppose we should have talked before this morning," Lizzy said, twisting her hands for a moment before sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard.  
  
After a minute's debate, he went to the other side and sat with her. "You had other things on your mind in Chicago. And you were supposed to."  
  
She cast a critical look at him. "What did you do after your parents died?"  
  
He shrugged. "I was in grad school. Gigi moved to California to live with me. Being with her more was the only good thing that came out of it."  
  
Lizzy shifted over and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."  
  
"It's all right." He took her hand and kissed the top of her head. "There's something I was meaning to ask about your mother."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"She wasn't married to your father all that long, really. Why keep his name?"  
  
"Well, officially she didn't, at least after she remarried," Lizzy replied. "But she published her first book as Fran Bennet. It was easier to keep it. Besides, my name was Bennet, and she wasn't going back to her unpronounceable Polish maiden name."  
  
"Worse than Ostrowski?"  
  
"Szczesniak."  
  
"There is no way that's real."  
  
"It is!"  
  
He chuckled and moved his hand to her thigh. She didn't object, even when he stroked gently. "Of course, this begs another question."  
  
"How is it my father is Swiss yet named Bennet?"  
  
"Did you always read my mind?"  
  
She shook her head. "Almost never." She sat up, rolling her shoulders back. "My grandfather was born Henri Benoit. My father's a very intelligent man and respected in his field, but his father's a real Renaissance man. Scientist, linguist, even a musician. He spoke English so well he could fool the king himself, he always said.  
  
"He was teaching at Oxford when the Nazis invaded France. His English friends begged him to stay, but he was in love with a girl back in Alsace. He got papers as Henry Bennet and went back for her. They went to Switzerland, he got a teaching position in Geneva, and that's where they raised their family."  
  
"Is he still alive?" Will asked.  
  
She nodded. "To be honest, I'm closer to Pépère than to my father."  
  
"You were too young to take sides in the divorce."  
  
"He's been married four times. I think he's always been unhappy that he wasn't as brilliant as his father, so he finds everything disappointing."  
  
Will, whose parents had been happy together and loved their children dearly, couldn't imagine what it was like for Lizzy to have such a father. He had the impression Fran was no match for Lizzy intellectually, but they clearly loved each other very much. It occurred to him he had never heard her refer to her father by any kind of name, whether French or English. He was always "my father," like a distant entity with no real bearing on her life.  
  
He stilled his hand as she pulled her knees up. "Will, I did a lot of thinking the last couple months," she said. "You know why I was angry, right? You said I was crazy for thinking my job was at stake if people found out."  
  
There was a part of his brain pointing out he'd been right, but he clamped down on the thought. The Governor had been forgiving but not very happy about it. Another candidate might not have bothered with forgiveness. "I was being selfish," he said. "And stupid."  
  
"Yes," she agreed. "But I was afraid. I've never been very good at this, Will, but I want to be. I want to take things slower this time, but I need you to understand. I don't want to lose you again."  
  
It was on the tip of his tongue to say again that he loved her, but something like fear of his own held him back.  
  
Lizzy leaned in and kissed the side of his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. "The night Mom died, I thought I heard you say something just before I fell asleep," she said. His whole body tensed. "I wasn't sure, but when you came to me with that obituary, I knew."  
  
"Lizzy," he breathed, not daring to look at her.  
  
"I love you, Will," she said, resting against him again. "It took me far too long to see it, but I love you so much."  
  
He wanted to kiss her until he was lost in her, make love to her until he couldn't tell where he ended and she began, but she wanted something slower this time, and he had to respect that. So instead of succumbing to his own needs, he yielded to hers and held her close, whispering over and over that he loved her too.  
  


* * *

  
In some ways, the Texas primary looked like primaries anywhere else. There were lots of flags, lots of signs, lots of cheering supporters. The only difference was, in Texas, everything really did seem bigger.  
  
Lizzy had been to Texas once in high school, the first year she qualified for the national speech tournament. The tournament left her with virtually no time to form an impression of her surroundings, except that it was very hot in June.  
  
It was getting hot in April too, and she found herself with little more time to decide whether she liked the state. They were too busy trying to win. Ohio had gone remarkably well for them. Gardiner won by fifteen points; even Zwillick's talk of the Governor's Midwestern sensibilities couldn't dampen that victory. They were within shouting distance of the nomination now, but Texas loomed large in their immediate future, large even by Texas' standards.  
  
"Should we be concerned?" Richard asked the senior staff as they waited for the first Austin rally to begin. "We're starting to see a lot of stories about Democrats eating their young."  
  
"We're Democrats," Lizzy said. "I thought eating our young was in the brochure."  
  
Richard laughed. "It's in the fine print."  
  
Charlotte took the question seriously. "We've got offices in places Democrats never have much presence. Senator Connolly may have locked up the Republican nomination on Super Tuesday, but when was the last time he was in the news?"  
  
"The Governor's favorables are high, even among Zwillick supporters," Will pointed out. "I don't think we're looking at winning the nomination and losing the other half of the party in the general."  
  
"Chuck?" Richard prompted.  
  
"I agree with Will."  
  
"Of course you do. Lizzy?"  
  
She shrugged. "If we do well enough here, the stories are going to be about momentum, not about Democratic infighting."  
  
"Well, then," Richard said, "let's do well enough here."  
  
In Austin they did a huge rally on the UT campus. The Governor was treated like a rock star. Most of the speech this time was not the standard stump speech. Instead, she talked about the cost of education, unemployment among young people, and health care, all issues she'd worked hard on in Wisconsin as Governor. Lizzy moved closer to Will as they watched from the side. "Chuck wrote this, didn't he?"  
  
Will looked at her in surprise. "How did you know?"  
  
"I'd say something about alliteration or parallel structure, but really, it's because you're so rich you forgot about a house you owned."  
  
"You're never going to let that go, are you?"  
  
"Doesn't seem likely."  
  
She expected an exasperated sigh. Instead, she saw him smile, and he ducked down quickly to kiss her.  
  
They were staying another night in Austin for yet another fundraiser, and in the morning they'd be off to Houston. Mary Benet and Gigi Darcy joined them that evening at the hotel, before the event. Mary was all too happy to report the apps were working well. She had a side project going about putting all the data to use and was scheduled to brief the campaign on it during the trip to Houston. Mary wasn't attending the party that night, so Gigi got to come without having to work.  
  
Lizzy was down in the lobby, standing so the silk of her dress wouldn't wrinkle. Like most of her formalwear, this gown was vintage—silver and floor-length, with a halter neck. Richard was the next one of the staff downstairs, and he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Lizzy. She rolled her eyes. "I don't remember you dressing this well when you worked for Dad," he said, with a kiss on her cheek.  
  
"I did well for myself in the private sector."  
  
"Well, you look beautiful tonight," he replied. "And I like the haircut. It suits you."  
  
Lizzy touched her short hair self-consciously. "I'm not sure Will likes it."  
  
"Well, fortunately his opinion is more or less meaningless."  
  
She laughed, which she suspected was the point. Then suddenly she found herself being hugged. "I'm glad you're back, kid," he said. "I'm not convinced Will's good enough for you, though."  
  
She laughed again, but before she could say something, a warm baritone voice interrupted their conversation. "Richard, you better not have designs on my girlfriend."  
  
Lizzy twisted away from Richard and smiled, both at what Will said and how he looked. The men in this family certainly could fill out a tuxedo, but Will was particularly sharp. He had escorted his sister down, and Lizzy thought they looked very sweet together.  
  
Gigi had not yet seen her cousin, so Richard released Lizzy to hug his young cousin. Meanwhile Will came up to Lizzy. "You're looking lovely tonight, Ms. Bennet," he said, with a teasing smile.  
  
"Just tonight, Fortinbras?" she asked in kind.  
  
"Fortinbras?" Richard repeated.  
  
Gigi laughed, though, and Lizzy realized she knew about that. Will had talked to his sister about her, and somehow it was incredibly endearing. She took his arm and smiled up at him. "That was when you met, wasn't it?" Gigi said, a little excitedly. Lizzy smiled at the Southern accent, much more pronounced in the young woman's voice than in her brother's. "She tried to guess Will's first name, Richard."  
  
Richard frowned. "And you guessed Fortinbras?"  
  
"I guessed something like Francis, I think," Lizzy told him. "Fortinbras was the worst name I could think of, although 'Fitzwilliam' wouldn't win any beauty pageants either."  
  
"Hey!" Richard protested.  
  
"Oh, it's fine as a surname, but could you imagine being saddled with it as a first name?"  
  
"I think I'd go by Darcy," Will said dryly.  
  
"You do go by Darcy," his cousin pointed out.  
  
"Darcy's more dignified," Will and Lizzy said simultaneously, to Richard and Gigi's delight.  
  
Lizzy was beginning to wonder where the Governor and the others were when Will suddenly leaned down to speak in her ear. "You do look beautiful tonight, darlin'," he said quietly, but not quietly enough.  
  
A few feet away, Richard was grinning at them. "I see you bring out the Southern boy in him, Lizzy."  
  
She blushed furiously, and Will looked embarrassed, too. She thought of his accent as something as private as anything they had done in bed. "He's been in Texas for days, Richard," she reminded him. "I said 'y'all' this morning talking to the press. I think I'm starting to pick up the accent too."  
  
Will bristled. "I am not picking up a Texas accent."  
  
Gigi was looking at Lizzy with wide eyes. "There's a big difference between Texas and North Carolina."  
  
"And Will worked so hard to shed his accent," Richard said. "I'm not sure he could even sustain his native tongue for very long."  
  
Lizzy wanted to respond in French, just to see how Richard would react, but perhaps wisely she kept her mouth shut.  
  
Will, on the other hand, did not. "Are you baiting me, Rick?"  
  
"Yes," Richard replied, as though it was obvious.  
  
"Will," Lizzy said softly, but it didn't do any good.  
  
"I bet you can't go the whole night in your real accent," Richard said. "I bet you're so used to suppressing it that you can't not suppress it."  
  
"'Can't not suppress it'?" Will repeated, wincing. "Can you maybe cease and desist with the double negatives?"  
  
"Hey, only one of us is a lawyer. You don't get to use the lingo."  
  
"So what's the bet?"  
  
"Loser has to wear a cowboy hat for the whole day of the primary!" Gigi said.  
  
"On camera and everything," Richard agreed.  
  
"You're on," Will said, and Lizzy covered her face with her hand. This was not going to end well.  
  


* * *

  
On Tuesday, Will was woken by his cousin delivering the cowboy hat he had to wear all day. Will made a growling noise at him but Richard was gleefully undeterred.  
  
When he went on television, he tried to take the laughter with good grace, and Lizzy assured him he did well. Of course, "well" for him was more loveably cranky than charming. He was glad, though, to be kept busy. It made the hours with that stupid Stetson pass more quickly.  
  
John Hunter from  _Rolling Stone_  approached him after lunch asking about the hat. His magazine had a curious arrangement with all the major players in both parties, significantly freer access in exchange for not publishing a word until after the general election. Will hated seeing him, knowing he had to cooperate to an extent but also knowing things he considered private would be aired. Thinking about it, he wondered if this was part of the reason Lizzy had been reluctant to be open about her relationship with him.  
  
"I lost a bet with Richard," Will explained, pushing the hat back slightly. He was starting to sweat under the band.  
  
"What kind of bet?"  
  
He shrugged, not wanting to say. "Something stupid. Not related to the campaign."  
  
John nodded. "Does it have to do with Lizzy?"  
  
Will just stared, and the reporter shifted and cleared his throat. "I, uh, it's been hard not to notice, Will."  
  
"It was a family thing," Will said, which was sort of true.  
  
He hoped John would get bored or distracted, but unfortunately what caught John's eye was Lizzy, across the lobby. Her phone was ringing, and Will saw how she stiffened before answering. " _Bonjour, Papa_ ," she said, and Will started moving toward her, leaving the reporter behind.  
  
Lizzy looked up as he approached, and Will could see her rising agitation. She started speaking in rapid French. He heard something about her mother being dead, but beyond that he couldn't follow. He could tell she was angry, though, and getting more so by the minute. The call was mercifully only a few minutes long, and she nearly threw the phone aside when she was done.  
  
"Lizzy?" Will said gently, while she cradled her head in her hands.  
  
She muttered in French; he still had no idea what she was saying but it sounded venomous. "Lizzy, let's get out of here," he said, taking her arm and gently pulling her to her feet.  
  
There was a park across the street from the hotel, and despite the fact that it was muddy from a huge thunderstorm the night before, Will guided her in that direction. She needed to be away from reporters and all the prying eyes of the staff. "Lizzy, will you tell me what's wrong?"  
  
She sat down on a swing and looked up at him. "My father," she spat. "I called him, I emailed him when Mom got sick. When she started going downhill. When she died. It's been two weeks since my last attempt, and he just now got around to calling me back."  
  
He sat on the swing next to hers. "I'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to say.  
  
"I just... I don't know how you can be that callous. I don't think he ever loved Mom very much, but he had a child with her!"  
  
Will couldn't imagine it either. He couldn't imagine having so little affection for his own child that he wouldn't immediately reach out to her at a time like this. "Was he at least... I don't know, sincere?"  
  
"What does it matter?" she asked. "You got on a plane as soon as you found out she was sick. You'd never met her in your life. He's my father, he was married to her, and it took him ten weeks to pick up the phone. He's never been good at communicating but I didn't think he was..."  
  
Will reached and closed his hand around hers, where she was gripping the swing's chain tightly. "Why can't I just let him go?" she asked, now crying. "Why does it have to hurt like this? He hasn't been a part of my life in two decades. Why should I expect any different now?"  
  
Will didn't have answers for her. Somehow he suspected there were none.  
  
After a while, she calmed down and wiped her eyes. "We should go back. I have to redo my makeup before I go on camera again."  
  
"Probably wouldn't hurt if we changed, either," he replied, sticking his feet out. "Six inches deep in mud."  
  
She laughed weakly. "Yeah."  
  
They walked back hand in hand, and she finally addressed the cowboy hat. "Are you actually going to wear that thing all day?"  
  
"A Darcy always honors his debts," Will replied, straightening his spine a little.  
  
"And a Fitzwilliam makes foolish bets."  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"You know if we win tonight, Richard's going to try to make you wear that hat from here on out."  
  
Will stopped dead in his tracks. "I hadn't thought of that."  
  
Lizzy was barely suppressing a grin. "You actually want us to lose tonight, don't you?"  
  
"Well, wouldn't you?"  
  


* * *

  
Margaret wasn't sure where the piano came from, but there was something highly entertaining about watching her campaign manager blunder his way through "Deep in the Heart of Texas" once and again while the staff sang along badly. Soon Charlotte shoved Richard aside, since she played much better. Richard grabbed Lizzy and started doing some sort of two-step around the room with her, until they passed Will in his ridiculous cowboy hat. Lizzy reached for Will, who pulled her away and kissed her soundly in front of everyone. There were a lot of cheers, and Lizzy turned bright red, but she didn't make Will let go of her either.  
  
While Margaret watched from the doorway, Ed came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. "I'm glad I was here for this one, babe," he said as she leaned back against him.  
  
"We haven't locked anything up yet, Ed."  
  
"I know. But we're close."  
  
Margaret turned to look at him. "And how are you going to feel about that? You know the general is going to be ten times harder, and then if we win..."  
  
" _When_  we win. And we'll be fine, Margaret. I'm so proud of you, you know?"  
  
"I do. I love you."  
  
They stood in silence for a little while, watching the staff wildly celebrating. "I don't get it," Margaret finally said. "I lost the caucus!"  
  
"Yeah, but you delivered a thumping in the primary," Ed pointed out. "It's like Richard said. You went after the young people and Latino voters hard, and they were less likely to caucus."  
  
She shook her head. "I still can't believe I beat Tom Zwillick in a Southern state."  
  
"What's the delegate count now?"  
  
"We won't have a firm number till morning, but it's looking less and less like Zwillick can stage a comeback. Not enough big states left, just Pennsylvania and Oregon, really."  
  
"Both states where you're likely to do well."  
  
Margaret nodded. "Maybe we'll get a bit of a break after Oregon."  
  
"By which you mean maybe you can go home and work."  
  
She smiled despite herself. He knew her so, so well.  
  
"They're going to be partying all night," he whispered in her ear. "What say we abandon the revelry?"  
  
"Depends."  
  
"On?"  
  
"The likelihood of me being asleep by, oh, one o'clock."  
  
She looked at Ed again and was amused to see his thoughtful exp ****ression. "I think I can make that happen."  
  
"Not getting overconfident, are you?"  
  
"Nope. I leave that for you."  
  
Though no one noticed but her husband, Margaret laughed as he led her away.


	11. Chapter 11

> _JENNINGS: It's worth noting, while we're in Pennsylvania, site of the Constitutional Convention, that none of this primary nonsense is actually in the Constitution._  
>    
>  _HOWARD: Wait, what?_
> 
>   
>  _CNN, May 4, 2014_

  
Will didn't care much for Pennsylvania. The state seemed to have conspired to get him out of bed earlier and earlier every day. The only good thing about it was, it reminded him of what it was like waking up with Lizzy, although he hated how early Lizzy got up.  
  
They were in Philadelphia now. Or Pittsburgh. No, Philadelphia. Governor Gardiner would be speaking at the Constitution Center that afternoon, so it had to be Philadelphia. At this point the whole state was a blur. He had to think it would only be worse when fall campaigning began.  
  
As he got out of bed, he realized he'd actually let himself think they were going to win. He wasn't superstitious enough to think he'd just cursed them to lose, but it was strange that he hadn't had the thought before. It had always been if, not when. Now as he shuffled toward the bathroom, he wondered if Richard would kill him if he knew about Will's change in attitude.  
  
He went through his morning routine on autopilot, stopping only when there was a knock at his door. He'd just set his toothbrush aside, so he rinsed his mouth quickly and went to answer the door.  
  
He wasn't really surprised to see Lizzy. Lately not even Chuck got up this early to work. He was surprised by what she was wearing: very short shorts, a thin tank top, and a robe she hadn't bothered to tie up.  
  
"Something's come up," she said. "Something about Hannah."  
  
Will let her into the room while she shoved her phone into his hand. He squinted at the screen for a minute and sighed. "I can't read this," he muttered, going to the desk to pick up his glasses.  
  
He was aware within a few seconds, however, that Lizzy was staring at him. At first he ignored it, but it was like a strong current, drawing him in whether he wanted to or not. Finally he looked up at her and started to ask what was wrong.  
  
She didn't let him get more than a word out of his mouth. She launched herself at him, burying her hands in his hair and kissing him wildly. In the back of his mind Will was grateful he'd brushed his teeth before letting her in. It was the last coherent thought he was going to have for a while. Lizzy's tongue was in his mouth, driving him out of his mind while her body shifted against his.  
  
Will grabbed her hips to hold her closer. Lizzy slid her arms around his neck, pushing up on her toes. On instinct he slid one hand down to her thigh; like she'd read his mind, she pulled her leg up around his. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd lifted her off the floor entirely, happy to be craning his neck up for once as they kissed.  
  
He stumbled over to the nearby wall, colliding with a soft thump. Lizzy giggled, then moaned as his lips moved down her throat. Will loved how he could get both sounds out of her like that.  
  
They were kissing and caressing for some minutes before Will realized the bed was not far away. He was an adult; he had some self-control, and he could focus on her instead of acting like a teenager.  
  
She tightened her legs around him when he abruptly backed away from the wall. She stopped kissing him too, clinging to him and giggling again. But the bed was closer than he realized, and when he hit it he lurched forward. He just barely moved his hand to cup the back of her head as they fell together onto the bed.  
  
He expected her to laugh, but she wasn't making any sound. Concerned, Will propped himself up to look at her. She was gasping, back arched, a look of panic on her face. "Lizzy?" he said. "Lizzy, say something."  
  
He pushed himself away, watching worriedly as he realized he'd knocked the wind out of her when they fell. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," he said as her breathing came back and her body relaxed.  
  
Now panting, she shook her head. "It's okay. Got carried away."  
  
Will stretched out next to her again, nuzzled her robe off one shoulder, and kissed her skin delicately. "Yeah, we did." The mood was effectively dead now, and he had to laugh. "I'm really sorry."  
  
"Hey, I threw myself at you," she pointed out.  
  
"Yeah, what exactly caused that?"  
  
She reached and tapped the corner of his glasses. "Apparently I have a thing for Clark Kent." He snorted, and she smiled. "When did you get these, anyway?"  
  
"Maybe a month ago? I don't like wearing them."  
  
"Too bad. They're really hot."  
  
Will had been thinking for weeks it was a sign of getting old that he'd actually gotten glasses, but suddenly he didn't mind them so much.  
  
They lay together in silence for a little while, Will tracing patterns on her stomach while she played with his hair. He was wondering if there was time to just go back to sleep like this, but Lizzy's hand stilled and she gently pushed him away. "Where's my phone?"  
  
"What phone?"  
  
"You had it last," she said, sitting up. "Oh, there it is."  
  
He remembered why he'd put his glasses on, and he went to retrieve her phone from the floor. "I forgot. You weren't just here to jump me."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't here to jump you at all."  
  
"So you say." Will handed her the phone with his best smile. "So what were you here about?"  
  
Lizzy entered her passcode and handed the phone over again. "It's about Hannah."  
  
Will read the blog post she'd loaded and long before the end of it, he was seething.  
  


* * *

  
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" the Governor asked, looking more alert than she had a minute ago when Lizzy came in.  
  
"There's someone claiming you and Ed adopted Ed's illegitimate child," Lizzy replied, hoping she wouldn't have to repeat this trash too much.  
  
Governor Gardiner stared for a minute, jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding."  
  
Lizzy shook her head. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I got a call from... well, someone in another time zone about half an hour ago. Apparently this blogger has been posting about this endlessly for months, but it's only just starting to get traction. It's still on the fringes, but these things can blow up quicker than we imagine."  
  
"Yeah, no kidding." The older woman sighed. "You were around the state house for some of that, Lizzy. It took us five years to get pregnant with Jack. Tried for another year before we adopted Hannah. And now I have to go over all this again in public."  
  
"I'm sorry," Lizzy said again. "Should I talk to someone in the state house?"  
  
The Governor shook her head. "No, talk to Charlotte. She was in the press office before we adopted Hannah. I know you can make the inquiries discreetly, but they're all terrified of her. Might as well use it, right?"  
  
Lizzy laughed a little. "Yes, ma'am."  
  
Margaret smiled, though wanly. "I should call my husband."  
  
"Do you need anything else?"  
  
"Earplugs? Ed's going to blow a gasket."  
  
"Sorry, ma'am. I can't help you there."  
  
Lizzy escaped before the Governor called Dr. Gardiner, not wanting to be around for the explosion. She knocked on the wrong door once before she found Charlotte, who was half-dressed and cranky about being interrupted. "This better be good," she muttered.  
  
Lizzy stepped inside and closed the door. "We've got a problem. There's a rumor floating that Hannah Gardiner is actually Dr. Gardiner's child from an extramarital affair."  
  
In the middle of buttoning up her blouse, Charlotte froze. "You're joking, right? You missed April Fool's Day and this is how you're making up for it."  
  
"I wish. The Governor wants you to call the press office at the state house. I'm going to need all the press releases and public statements the Gardiners made about the adoption, end to end."  
  
"Of course, of course," Charlotte said, already getting her phone to make the call. Lizzy stood by while Charlotte waited. "There's no way this actually hurts us, is there?"  
  
"I don't know. Sometimes the craziest accusations are the ones that stick."  
  
Charlotte frowned. "What's your plan, then?"  
  
"I'll let you know when I've got one."  
  
Lizzy had the statements in hand within the hour, and she spent a bit of time organizing them. The couple did three television interviews on the subject and four more in print. In the sixteen months it took them to adopt, the Governor spoke before the press eleven times, with more than a dozen further releases. After reading everything, Lizzy knew what to do.  
  
The question did not come that day or the next. "How did you find out about this?" Chuck asked more than thirty-six hours after Lizzy had first gone to Will.  
  
"One of my cousins in France," she told the group as they gathered for dinner and planning. "He's interested in American politics."  
  
"Everyone at this table is interested in American politics," Richard pointed out, laughing. "None of us found it."  
  
"Yes, well, Thiérry is particularly interested in fringe politics and the accompanying theories," Lizzy admitted. "He finds us terribly amusing, but at least he was useful this time."  
  
"Hang on, I thought you were Swiss," Chuck protested.  
  
"It's complicated."  
  
"Lizzy, what are you going to do when this breaks?" Charlotte asked.  
  
"What I'm good at," Lizzy replied. "I'm going to talk until the problem is fixed."  
  


* * *

  
Charlotte wasn't entirely surprised by Lizzy’s plan. Charlotte had started her work for the Governor in the state house's press office. She'd hated it, but she saw that Lizzy was very, very good at her job. Still, Charlotte couldn't quite shake the feeling Lizzy was putting all their chips on a very uncertain roll of the dice.  
  
The question finally came six days before the Pennsylvania primary. Since Texas, Zwillick had won narrowly in Indiana, North Carolina, West Virginia, and Kentucky. For him Pennsylvania was the last stand, the last state with sufficient delegates and political affinity to make a dent in Gardiner's lead. Charlotte was quietly nervous about where this was coming from. The timing made her wonder if this was a last-ditch effort by Zwillick.  
  
Lizzy had been carrying with her for days a binder full of the statements Charlotte tracked down for her. On Wednesday morning, Charlotte had a feeling and watched from the back of the hotel foyer where they held briefings. Lizzy stood at the other end, often leaning back against a table, the reporters gathered in front of her in haphazardly arranged chairs.  
  
The first several questions were innocuous, and during that time, Richard and Will joined Charlotte in the back. "Anything?" Richard asked quietly, and she shook her head. "They're going to notice us back here and want to know why."  
  
"Wait," Will said, before Charlotte could answer. "I think..."  
  
He didn't have to say more. Lizzy called on Jeff Cross of the  _Wall Street Journal_ , probably the most conservative of the national papers. "Lizzy, I'm wondering if you've heard anything about this rumor circulating online."  
  
"I thought the internet was for baseless rumors, Jeff."  
  
The group laughed quietly, and Jeff continued. "Some conservative blogs are running a rumor saying Hannah Gardiner is actually Ed Gardiner's illegitimate daughter."  
  
A few of the reporters actually gasped. Richard and Will crossed their arms over their chests in identical posture. At the front of the group, Lizzy shifted her things and opened the black binder. "On January 9, 2010, Governor and Dr. Gardiner issued the following press release," she said, and then she proceeded to read. "'After the difficulties they have had in having children, the Governor and Dr. Gardiner have begun the process of adoption. It is their intent to be as transparent in this process as adoption laws allow. They ask the people of Wisconsin to support them, and to respect their privacy and the privacy of the birth family of the child they hope to welcome eventually into their home."  
  
Lizzy turned the page, and she proceeded to read statement after statement about the adoption. Except she wasn't just reading, she was  _performing_. At the end of the relatively bloodless releases, she moved on to the public statements the Gardiners made during the months of the adoption process, carefully citing each and every one.  
  
At the end, she closed the binder and looked at the reporter in the second row. "Does that answer your question, Jeff?"  
  
"Uh, yeah, it does."  
  
Lizzy set the binder aside, and she stood away from the table as she went on. "I don't know who has been perpetuating this rumor online, but I can't begin to tell you how angry this makes me. The Gardiners were nothing but transparent in this process, which was deeply personal and on occasion painful for them. There's a year and a half of public statements on the subject, so for someone to suggest they were lying in order to cover up that kind of misconduct isn't just offensive. It's ludicrous."  
  
She gathered her things and walked away then, even though reporters were asking more questions. Charlotte led the guys out of the foyer too, and they met up with Lizzy in the elevator. "I could kiss you," Richard said once the doors were closed.  
  
Without missing a beat, she replied, "I could slap you."  
  
Everyone in the elevator was still laughing when it arrived at the fourth floor.  
  


* * *

  
Lizzy didn't get a moment alone with Will until late in the evening, and even then they were only in a relatively quiet part of the bus. "Dr. Gardiner is coming out here Friday," she told him. "Bringing the kids too."  
  
"Good," Will said with a firm nod. "We need lots of pictures of the family out there."  
  
"I hate that we have to." With a sigh, Lizzy laid her head back against the seat. "I thought everyone agreed a long time ago that kids were off-limits."  
  
"The internet changed everything. You know that."  
  
"It's just crazy that a vicious rumor in an email can turn into this."  
  
"I agree, but you know what I want to know?" She shook her head, and he smiled. "How you decided to just stand there and read those statements like a filibuster."  
  
"I went back to my roots," she explained. "Speech team. One of my events was prose reading. Sometimes there's nothing quite so effective as a well-rehearsed reading."  
  
"You rehearsed that?" he said, his smile now teasing.  
  
She grinned in return. "Of course I did."  
  
"So, speech team?"  
  
"I haven't bored you to tears about that before? I loved it, but it was basically my life in high school," she told him. "I did prose reading as a freshman, and then one weekend one of our impromptu guys got sick and my coach asked me to take the open slot. Two minutes to prep a six-minute speech. It was terrifying and I kind of loved it."  
  
Will chuckled. "You would."  
  
"Hey, I almost made it to state that year. Did the next year. Nationals, too." She looked at him curiously. "What about you?"  
  
"In high school? I was the skinny nerd on the school newspaper."  
  
That made Lizzy smile, even as he made a face. "Not even the skinny editor of the school newspaper?"  
  
"Well, not till I was a senior. If I'd been thinking, I would have been a photographer. I'd at least have attracted girls that way."  
  
Lizzy giggled, leaning into him. "Editor of the paper. Were you thinking about becoming a reporter, or were you just into the power?"  
  
"Bit of both?" he admitted with a shy, sheepish smile. "I thought I was going to be a Pulitzer-winning reporter. Thank God I didn't go to J-school."  
  
"Yeah, then this relationship would be entirely unethical instead of mostly unethical."  
  
Will leaned over and kissed her. "Have I apologized for that lately?"  
  
"I think you've apologized enough," she replied, clasping his hand and kissing it.  
  
The soft smile on his face made her breath catch, and she bit her lip. He really was so handsome, and there was a sort of vulnerable happiness about him she never would have expected when he walked into her office all those months ago.  
  
The bus rolled up to the hotel in Erie around eleven that night. Cell signal was bad on the road, so the senior staff camped in the lobby with tablets and laptops to catch up en masse. "Zwillick's condemned the rumors," Charlotte said, finding the Senator's statement first. "'The Gardiners did a wonderful thing by opening their home and their hearts to this little girl, and their actions and motives are above reproach.'"  
  
Richard pumped his fist. "Can't complain about your opponent sticking up for you."  
  
"Bite your tongue, Richard," Lizzy said. "But really, this isn't looking any worse than last summer when the press caught wind of Chuck and his crippling triskaidekaphobia."  
  
"Hey," Chuck protested.  
  
"How long till we see this stuff reflected in polling?" Will asked before Lizzy could continue that line of conversation.  
  
"Friday or Saturday, probably," Charlotte told him. "But one statement from Zwillick isn't going to be the end of it."  
  
Will and Charlotte went back and forth for a bit, but Lizzy was distracted by her own screen. "Lizzy?" Richard prompted during a lull.  
  
"Read this," she said, thrusting the tablet across the circle into Richard's hands.  
  
"Won't read it unless you've practiced it?" Will said to her quietly. She elbowed him lightly to quiet him.  
  
Richard turned the screen around and started to read. "'When asked, GOP Presidential nominee Senator Mike Connolly said that it was "a terrible accusation to make without proof."'"  
  
"That's... strained," Chuck said.  
  
"I think you mean constipated."  
  
"Richard!" Charlotte scolded.  
  
"It's a legitimate use of the word! Back me up, East German judge," he said, with a pointed look at Will.  
  
"Why am I the East German judge?" Will asked, getting defensive.  
  
"You're not exactly unbiased, dear," Lizzy said with heavy sarcasm.  
  
"Dear?" Chuck repeated with a grin, while Richard gasped dramatically.  
  
"Give me my iPad back before I beat you with my shoe," Lizzy said as she wrenched it away from him. "I'm going to bed."  
  
"You going too, honey?" Richard said to Will. Before Will could say anything, Lizzy walked behind Richard and smacked his head.  
  


* * *

  
Will got as far as untucking his shirt before something occurred to him and he was heading to Lizzy's room. As he raised his hand to knock, the door flew open. Lizzy let out a startled noise and laughed. "Fortinbras!"  
  
He grinned. "I know, I thought this was going to be a morning routine." She rolled her eyes and walked back inside; he followed her. "I had a thought about where this rumor came from," he said. "The guy who started it is a dyed-in-the-wool Republican. Libertarian, even, but he's so far to the right I don't think even the conservative media would really pay attention to him. This must have been elevated by someone with a lot more influence."  
  
She smiled at him, and he realized he was a step behind again. "You and my cousin," she said, handing him her phone. "I almost hope you never meet."  
  
"Lizzy, this is in French."  
  
"I thought you spoke French."  
  
"I can ask for directions to the Louvre or what the weather is like in Nice," he said. "Things you learn in high school French."  
  
"Oh." She took the phone back and set it aside. "Well, the blogger has posted he had a conversation with a guy named Darryl Whitby."  
  
"Why is that name familiar?"  
  
"Because Darryl Whitby is the political director of Restoration America."  
  
"The pro-Connolly Super PAC?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"I could kiss you," he said, then mentally cringed when he remembered Richard saying the same to her that morning.  
  
But Lizzy gave him a coy smile. "Then why don't you?"  
  
Will needed no further invitation. He cupped her face and kissed her, sweetly at first, but soon Lizzy deepened the kiss. He began backing toward the bed, pulling her with him. This time he wasn't going to tackle her, at least.  
  
He sat on the edge of the bed and began to tug her down, but she resisted. It took him a minute to realize it, and he frowned in confusion. "Lizzy?" She was biting her lip and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Lizzy, are you... Are you not ready for this, sweetheart?"  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered, resting her forehead against his. "I know... I know it's not like it's our first time. And I remember..." She touched his face tenderly. "I remember what it was like. It was incredible, Will, and I want to be with you again, but..."  
  
Will swallowed hard, not sure he wanted to know. "But?"  
  
She took a deep breath. "I don't regret having slept with you before, but if I had it to do over again, I might have waited until we knew each other better. There are so many conversations we didn't have before, and we should have." He looked up at her, only half understanding and desperately trying to keep his disappointment at bay, but her smile was reassuring. "I don't even know your first name."  
  
He groaned. "Really? You won't sleep with me until I tell you my first name?"  
  
He expected a laugh, but she frowned. "Will."  
  
"I'm sorry." He sighed. "I think I understand. Sort of."  
  
"I'm glad." She backed away from him and he didn't resist. "And my second, much less critical reason for turning you down is we probably ought to tell someone what my cousin found."  
  
"Oh, right."  
  
They left her room and walked down the hall toward the Governor's suite. Lizzy took his hand as Will took a deep breath. "Flannery."  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"Flannery," he repeated, rubbing his neck. "That's what the F stands for. Flannery William Darcy."  
  
Lizzy stopped short. "How in the world do you think Fortinbras is worse than that? That's a girl's name!"  
  
"Mom's family was Irish. My great-grandfather was named Flannery."  
  
"Name one other Flannery."  
  
He sighed. "Flannery O'Connor."  
  
"And my point is made." She gave him a shrewd look. "You're making this up, aren't you? There's no way you're telling the truth."  
  
He gave her a sidelong glance and started walking again. "Wouldn't you like to know?"  
  
He had to admit, it was sort of nice to have her gaping and chasing after  _him_  for once.  
  


* * *

  
Two days after the rumor about Hannah came out, Ed and the kids joined Margaret in Philadelphia, where they saw the Liberty Bell and some other tourist sites while a mob of reporters followed them. The pictures of Hannah and Jack with their parents did more than Lizzy could have done with days of talking. On Monday, the truth came out, and that did the most good of all.  
  
A CNN reporter, flushed with the pride of breaking a serious scandal, went live on his network that afternoon to report how the rumors surfaced in the first place. Darryl Whitby, political director of Restoration America, talked to the blogger and subsequently to a few more prominent bloggers and a reporter or two, until finally something shook loose.  
  
"Restoration America is a big supporter of Senator Connolly's Presidential campaign," an analyst on CNN said. "Of course, there's no political coordination between campaigns and super PACs, but this is not good for Connolly."  
  
That, as it turned out, was the understatement of the year. There was no proof Connolly had anything to do with the story, but every reporter worth his salt pulled up his strange response to the situation. It might have been better for him to say nothing; now everyone was wondering if he had something to do with the story.  
  
Lizzy didn't really think he had. Connolly was too honest for that, but she did wonder about the statement. Had he known before the story broke there was some way to connect it to him? Not that it mattered much, of course. The day before the Pennsylvania primary, just before the nightly news, his campaign had to release a statement decrying Whitby's actions and publicly supporting adoptive parents like the Governor and Dr. Gardiner.  
  
Tuesday night, the Governor approached her alone while the group watched the returns. "Am I needed on camera, ma'am?" Lizzy asked.  
  
"No, no," Governor Gardiner replied. "I just wanted to know how you're feeling about the Hannah rumors."  
  
"Like you have to be the scum of the earth to stoop that low," Lizzy said darkly. "But I think it's gone away as much as it's going to. Reasonable people will be convinced by the paper trail you and Dr. Gardiner left. Unreasonable people won't be convinced by anything."  
  
The Governor smiled wryly. "It was easier when village idiots couldn't find other village idiots on the internet."  
  
"Don't say that too loud," Lizzy replied, though she chuckled. "We're going to hear about this again in the general."  
  
"Don't say that too loud either. Haven't won yet."  
  
A cheer went up in the room, and Lizzy smiled. "You sure about that?"


	12. Chapter 12

> _WATCH THIS VIDEO. It may be the funniest thing I've ever seen in politics._
> 
>  
> 
> _Bridget Weir, aka @TinyButMighty, May 15, 2014_

  
To: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
From: fwdarcy78@matlock.org  
Re: Light at the end of the tunnel  
  
Sorry about the radio silence. It's been crazy out here. I've hardly had time to write for the Governor, let alone write an email.  
  
How is your cold? I'm hoping by now you're over it. I know Mary needs you, but if you're not well yet, I want you to go to the doctor. You can't do your job if you're sick and getting others sick. I don't want to baby you about this, but you've always tried to soldier on when you shouldn't. I'm going to sic Aunt Alice on you if you're not better in a few days. We both know how that ends.  
  
Lizzy asked for your email address a while ago. You haven't said anything about her emailing you, which leads me to conclude you two are scheming something. I am, for once, not going to complain. But don't think that's about you. Lizzy's said I'm forgiven, and I believe her, but it's hard for me to forget what I did to her. What I said was bad enough, but I don't know how she was even able to look at me after I let her go through all that alone.  
  
We've talked about the whole mess now and then. She's thinking at some point we have to stop revisiting it, to learn from the past but not let it fester. And she's right. At the very least I'm not going to complain about her plotting a surprise for my birthday.  
  
So tell me about Mary and how things are going with her. Are you happier as a personal interpreter than you were as interpreter for the county? I'll be honest, I'm still a little surprised you left that job. I guess it's because the Fitzwilliam blood pushes so many of us into civil service. Don't take this as criticism. Your job is inherently a service. Not even Grandpa could question your commitment. I'm still incredibly proud of you and what you do. I remember when you were little and wouldn't play the piano in front of people you'd known all your life, so it's amazing to me that you chose a career that's essentially performing all the time.  
  
There's an incredibly loud poker game on at the other end of the bus. Chuck just stopped by to see if I'd spot him some cash. I've heard that one before, so our inheritance is safe. Probably would be safer if I joined the game. Chuck's poker face is basically nonexistent.  
  
I can hear Lizzy laughing now. It's funny, I can't tell from how she's smiling if she's winning or losing. I don't think she cares. Richard's pouting, though, so I think he's losing. Good for him. It'll build character.  
  
Chuck also wanted to warn me that Jane's talking about an event in his sister's district. We'd have to be within fifty feet of each other. I suppose she might have improved since our Berkeley days. Maybe. I'm not holding my breath.  
  
Before I forget (again), tell Aunt Alice we're still working on a date for the fundraiser. We're not dragging our feet, honest. With the nomination almost in hand, scheduling is worse than usual. Hopefully it'll calm down soon. I think Jane's about to have a nervous breakdown, but she's keeping the trains on time.  
  
Don't tell Richard I said that about the nomination. He and I seem to have swapped outlooks. We get closer and closer and I get more certain; he becomes the skeptic. Zwillick would have to pull off a miracle to win at this stage. I'm not saying we've got it wrapped up, but Richard could use some faith in his life. If nothing else, he's got to take SOLVE's endorsement as a sign. It's a huge deal in Oregon. Our state people have been dancing on clouds since it happened.  
  
Speaking of SOLVE, the endorsement event was interesting. The way Aunt Edna would call something interesting. I'm sure someone else will try to tell you a version of this story, but let me tell you what actually happened.  
  
SOLVE is an environmental organization. Originally it was SOLV—Stop Oregon Littering and Vandalism. (No idea where the E came from.) One of their first accomplishments was cleaning up the Columbia Slough in Mutlnomah County. It honestly is a testament to what people can accomplish when they give it their all. The slough was horribly polluted back in the day, and it was cleaned up and has been kept clean largely through volunteer work. The Governor's been working on some similar initiatives in Wisconsin, so she was already familiar with the organization before we got to Oregon.  
  
On the Governor's suggestion, the endorsement event was at the slough. The press arrived by bus, and we arrived by kayak. (Which is a palindrome, I just realized.) I think it was Chuck's idea. Jane should have put her foot down, but we'll see if that ever happens.  
  
I'll admit, the kayaking was kind of fun. The press ate it up. Governor Gardiner made jokes about going back into the Navy when we reached dry land again—never mind that she was a pilot. The SOLVE people loved it too, because it demonstrated one of the reasons they threw so much time and work into the slough. It's a beautiful place, Gigi. Tons of cranes roosting on the shoreline. You should see it sometime. It used to be one of those places where people would come to dump things. SOLVE cleaned it up, made it a place where you could go kayaking without paddling through an oil slick or into an ancient Impala.  
  
It is, however, incredibly muddy.  
  
The Governor got out of her kayak and the rest of us followed. SOLVE's representatives talked first, introducing the Governor to the Oregon press. Most of the staff stayed a ways back in the water, but I was up front with the Governor. And then—I honestly don't know how this happened—I heard Lizzy shriek right before a splash. I turned around, and she was down in the water, barefoot, with Richard standing over her.  
  
Neither of them will tell me what happened, but my best guess is Lizzy got herself stuck in the mud somehow and Richard tried to pull her out with more force than sense. We were all wearing appropriate boots, fortunately, but I guess he literally knocked her out of hers.  
  
I'm afraid your brother was not very dignified running over to get his girlfriend out of the muck. Lizzy wasn't very dignified by then either. Richard was laughing so hard I thought he would hyperventilate. Lizzy would have murdered him, I think, if it hadn't been for the local news cameras on the bank. I guess I don't have to worry about her ever leaving me for him.  
  
The campaign bus had pulled up by then, so I helped Lizzy out and got her over to the bus so she could change. Poor woman was shivering by the time we got in there. She cleaned up pretty quickly, and when we got back outside, it was Lizzy's turn to laugh. Richard was still stuck in the slough, and Chuck's attempts to help seemed to be getting him stuck too.  
  
But eventually everyone got out of the mud and back on the bus. Before we left, I heard someone from SOLVE saying our antics reminded her of a coastal county's unofficial slogan, "the land of cheese, trees, and mud to your knees." I can't say I disagree. Neither does Lizzy.  
  
We're starting to get meetings about Secret Service procedure. Not for the staff, obviously, but things are going to change for all of us soon. We don't really get to negotiate with them on anything, which is fine by me. They've got guns, and they're here to keep me from getting shot. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself. Next time we see you, you'll probably have to go through security first.  
  
If you get a chance, call me tonight. We haven't talked in a while, and despite my propensity for long email, you know this isn't how I prefer to communicate.  
  
I think you and Mary will be in Madison in a few days, once the nomination is in hand. I'll see you then. Love you.  
  
Will  
  


* * *

  
To: rjfitz73@matlock.org  
From: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
Re: Oregon  
  
So I heard you did a bit of muckraking this week.  
  
G  
  


* * *

  
  
To: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
From: rjfitz73@matlock.org  
Re: The truth and nothing but  
  
I have a sudden urge to defend my honor. Your brother is a liar and you know it.  
  
We went kayaking as part of the SOLVE event. I'm going to assume Will told you a lot of this. (I was excellent at kayaking, by the way.) Then Lizzy got herself stuck in the mud and I, being a gentleman, offered to help her out.  
  
There was some sort of gravitational anomaly in that river, though. And whatever Will told you, I DID get her unstuck. Just because neither one of them can see the humor in things doesn't mean I did something wrong.  
  
And then he left me there, stuck! It took four people to get Chuck and me out of the mud!  
  
Of course, none of this would have happened if Jane and Chuck were still speaking to each other. Not sure what happened there. Should ask Lizzy, she probably knows. Except she's not speaking to me right now.  
  
I don't suppose I could get you to ask?  
  
Richard  
  


* * *

  
To: rjfitz73@matlock.org  
From: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
Re: The truth and nothing but  
  
> I don't suppose I could get you to ask?  
  
Not a chance!  
  
G  
  


* * *

  
To: esbennet@gfa.org  
From: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
Re: Jane and Chuck!?  
  
Lizzy,  
  
Richard just emailed me something about Jane and Chuck breaking up! What gives?  
  
G  
  


* * *

  
To: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
From: esbennet@gfa.org  
Re: Jane and Chuck!?  
  
Relax. They just had a fight. I think they're both so startled by the fact they had a fight that they don't really know what to do. They're not like your brother and me.  
  
Lizzy  
  


* * *

  
To: fwdarcy78@matlock.org  
From: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
Re: Light at the end of the tunnel  
  
Oh, that's hilarious. Richard says there was a gravitational anomaly and that's why Lizzy fell. Seems unlikely, although I am not a physicist.  
  
Gigi  
  


* * *

  
To: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
From: fwdarcy78@matlock.org  
Re: Light at the end of the tunnel  
  
You don't have to be a physicist to know that gravitational anomalies in the middle of Portland are pretty unlikely.  
  
Will  
  


* * *

  
To: esbennet@gfa.org  
From: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
Re: Jane and Chuck!?  
  
> Relax. They just had a fight. I think they're just  
> both so startled by the fact that they had a fight  
> that they don't really know what to do. They're  
> not like your brother and me.  
  
Whew. I'm not sure why I'm so invested in their relationship, but they're too adorable to break up.  
  
Are you serious about you and Will, though? I can't really see him being happy in a relationship where he's fighting all the time. He was so miserable when you left the campaign last winter. I don't want to see him like that again.  
  
G  
  


* * *

  
To: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
From: esbennet@gfa.org  
Re: Jane and Chuck!?  
  
Gigi, I didn't say we fight all the time, or even a lot. But trust me, your brother would not respect me if I just agreed with him all the time. He practically raised you. Your relationship with him isn't going to look like my relationship with him. And that's a good thing, because frankly it'd be creepy if it did.  
  
I do think it's sweet that you're concerned. I don't know how you've dealt with or thought about Will's relationships in the past. I know you're close. But he *is* happy, Gigi, and I've never been happier than I am with him. Yes, we drive each other crazy sometimes, but you really have no idea how much fun that can be.  
  
Has Will told you the adventure of the Columbia Slough? He really is such a sweetie sometimes.  
  
Lizzy  
  


* * *

  
To: esbennet@gfa.org  
From: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
Re: Columbia slough  
  
Will told me about you ending up in the water, and Richard tried to tell me it wasn't his fault. But nothing my brother said would qualify as "sweetie" behavior!  
  
G  
  


* * *

  
To: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
From: esbennet@gfa.org  
Re: Your brother is crazy, in case you didn't know  
  
I think Will's on to us. I keep catching him trying to look at my calendar when I have it up. It'd be irritating if it weren't so adorable.  
  
(You don't mind me saying stuff like that, do you? Will really wants us to be friends, and it'd be weird not talking to one of my friends about my boyfriend. I'm not going to tell you things you don't want to know about your brother—I don't really talk about those things with anyone anyway. I just want to know where the boundaries are here. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.)  
  
Anyway, the Columbia Slough. We got out of the kayaks and the SOLVE people wanted to set up right at the water's edge. Usually at this kind of event, the staff stays in arm's reach just in case we have to shut things down. This time, "in arm's reach" meant we were behind the Governor, standing in the water, and in the thickest mud I have ever encountered in my life. Richard and I stepped back from the group to have a bit of a private conversation, which I realize now we never actually did. I realized my boots were pretty firmly stuck in the mud, and there was no way I was getting out on my own.  
  
Richard grabbed my arms and pulled. I wasn't really ready, and I just came out of the boots entirely and landed in the water. And then Richard had the audacity to laugh at me. Could have killed him. I know he's your cousin, but I hope we can agree he's sometimes a little bit worthless.  
  
Will came splashing over as fast as he could, and the next thing I know, he's carrying me out of the water and back to the bus. That's what I meant by him being a sweetie. After I got cleaned up, we went back outside to discover that Richard and Chuck were both stuck out there. I guess it never occurred to them that, the laws of physics being what they are, one person pulling another out was going to get the second person stuck. I'm not sure how long they went back and forth before some of the SOLVE people went over and helped them. Took four people to free them successfully without anyone else getting stuck.  
  
I do have to talk to Richard eventually, but you might be able to give me an answer on this. The campaign is going overseas in June. I think we're talking about England, Germany, and Israel. At the moment, the trip coincides with my grandfather's hundredth birthday. I'm reasonably certain the Governor will give me the time to see my family, but I'm giving thought to inviting Will to come with me. Do you think it's a good idea? Is meeting the family going to be even more intimidating when your command of their language is restricted to "How do I get to the Louvre?"  
  
I'm probably overthinking this, but if you know if Will's got any specific aversion to summer in the French Alps, speak now or forever etc., etc...  
  
Lizzy  
  


* * *

  
To: esbennet@gfa.org  
From: gldarcy89@matlock.org  
Re: France  
  
If he won't go, I will!!  
  
G  
  


* * *

  
"So have you talked to your sister lately?" Lizzy asked Will when they stepped out of the victory party for a moment of quiet.  
  
"She won't spill the beans," Will said, low in her ear. "Whatever you've got planned is still a surprise."  
  
Lizzy smiled up at him, and after a quick glance around she cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down for a long, slow kiss. Will's hands came to rest on her back and he pulled her closer but let her stay in control. She took his mouth over and over, relishing in every time he moaned and every time his fingers tightened on her back. Will was always so careful, so restrained, so dignified, and Lizzy loved making him unravel.  
  
"Another such, and I am undone," he murmured when Lizzy left his mouth and began trailing kisses across his jaw.  
  
She reached his ear and laughed lightly. "Am I a Pyrrhic victory for you now?"  
  
"Always. Never."  
  
Nuzzling his ear, she whispered, "Make up your mind, Fortinbras."  
  
"I love you," he replied instead, and his posture shifted. Lizzy remembered when he had grabbed her and pinned her to the wall not that long ago, but he seemed content now to hold her tightly, breathing her in.  
  
"I love you too," she whispered, resting against his chest and thinking she'd never been so happy as this in her life, and it had nothing to do with Governor Gardiner finally securing the nomination.  
  
They were swaying in time with the music blaring from the party down the way. When they stilled, Lizzy lifted her head and Will kissed her cheek. She hadn't talked to Richard or the Governor yet, but the words came out of her mouth anyway. "Come with me to France."  
  
"Absolutely," he said, making her laugh. "Just tell me when. I'll be there with bells on."  
  
She giggled, even as he kissed her. "I mean it," she said, drawing away. "My grandfather's hundredth birthday is during the Governor's overseas trip next month. The whole family is gathering at a chalet in the Alps. Come with me."  
  
The playfulness in his eyes was gone, replaced by surprise and a little worry. "Are you sure, Lizzy?"  
  
She nodded. "I want you to meet my grandfather. He's an amazing man."  
  
"Then I'll come," he said, with a whisper of a kiss.  
  
If the party hadn't spilled into the hallway then, Lizzy might have found her resolve cracking. The ache for him was almost unbearable but she was so afraid of making a mistake, of hurting him or coming to regret him. Something traitorous in the back of her mind pointed out she could hurt him by waiting too long, but she pushed it back. When the time was right, she wouldn't remember her fears.  
  
Will took her hand and led her back into the party. "Come dance with me."  
  
She went with him gladly.


	13. Chapter 13

> _The primaries gave us something to talk about for months, but I can't help feeling a little sorry for the Gardiner campaign. They're not really going to get a chance to breathe. If the Connolly crew has any idea what they're doing, they spent the last three months gearing up for both Gardiner and Zwillick. If they haven't, well, they probably deserve to lose._
> 
> _David Kerr, the_ New York Times _, May 21, 2014_

  
The morning after Oregon, the Governor's Secret Service protection began, and Will got a phone call he never would have expected. He hadn't even known his great-uncle had his cell phone number, but Frederick Darcy called him to offer congratulations and a promise to vote for Connolly. "Crotchety old geezer," Will muttered at his phone once they'd hung up.  
  
"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Will," Richard said as he passed.  
  
Will caught up and walked with him. "That was my great-uncle."  
  
"Justice Darcy? Letting you know what a disappointment you are to the Darcy legacy?"  
  
"Basically."  
  
"Well, there's a reason your dad's family didn't approve of Aunt Anne."  
  
"Thanks, Richard, for the lesson in my family's history."  
  
"I'm just saying, the Fitzwilliams welcomed Uncle George even though I'm pretty sure his father voted for Wallace at least once."  
  
"Once? Probably every time he was on the ballot. Strom Thurmond, too."  
  
"Your family tree is one big brush pile of contradictions, isn't it?"  
  
"There's a reason I was seriously thinking of becoming a teacher."  
  
They arrived at the staff meeting as Richard laughed. "Anyone here want to imagine what it'd be like to take a class from Will?"  
  
"You mean I'm not?" Chuck said, to the laughter of all but Lizzy.  
  
She had narrowed her eyes in concern, but Will shook his head slightly. They'd talk about it later.  
  
This was Jane's meeting, rolling out the schedule for the next two weeks as they transitioned into the general election. The afternoon would take them back to Madison, where their greatly expanded headquarters would be. They'd already annoyed the DNC by not setting up shop in Washington, but half the appeal of Gardiner over Zwillick was that she wasn't Washington establishment. Will privately thought the annoyance was mostly because the party people didn't want to be in Wisconsin come November. He wasn't entirely sure he blamed them.  
  
"Charlotte, have you got those polls we were looking at?" Richard asked. Charlotte handed over a huge stack of papers, which he began distributing. "These are the latest state-by-state polls for Connolly v. Gardiner. If the election were held today, we would probably lose."  
  
It took Will a minute to figure out the organizational system of Charlotte's packet—toss-ups followed by likely wins and losses, and sure wins and losses last. "How big a loss are we talking about?" Chuck asked.  
  
Lizzy was on the last page already. "Anywhere from a tie, which we would lose on account of the Republican Congress, to forty-seven electoral votes." She swiveled in her chair to look at Charlotte. "Did you lift this from Hal Preston?"  
  
Charlotte looked about shiftily. "I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
There were smirks all around as Richard continued. "This is the only time we're printing this out for everyone, as apparently you can get all of this from twoseventy-dot-com. This is going to be the basis of our playbook for a while. Obviously we're going to spend a good amount of time raising money in Democratic areas, but a lot of our time is also going to be spent in eight or ten states where our money and effort will do the most good."  
  
"Everyone here is going to Madison today," Charlotte added. "You all need to hire people. No more skeleton crew. We have to do this quickly, but let's try not to hire just anybody who walks in."  
  


* * *

  
In the afternoon, Lizzy interviewed at least thirty people. She was luckier than most. She just had the candidates read a release and answer a few questions about experience and how they would respond in various situations. Most of them she weeded out in the reading. She was rather alarmed by the number of people with degrees in communication who couldn't communicate, but then, there was Will.  
  
She interviewed a good portion of Zwillick's press staff, but only one surprised her. George Wickham sailed into her office dripping with charm, like he was going to seduce his way into a job. Lizzy plastered on a polite smile as he planted himself in the chair opposite her. "Well, well, Lizzy Bennet. We meet again."  
  
Struck by some mischievous impulse, Lizzy frowned. "I'm sorry, have we met before?"  
  
He looked crestfallen. "We met in Miami, I think. I was offering you a job with Senator Zwillick."  
  
"Oh, of course. What can I do for you, Mr. Wickham?"  
  
They went through the interview, and Lizzy wondered if she would have fallen for this suave act if she hadn't known about Will's history with him. Thinking of Will gave her another idea, though.  
  
At the end of the interview, Wickham stood, buttoned his jacket, and shook her hand across the desk. "I hope to hear from you soon," he said, with a practiced and dazzling smile.  
  
"It'll be late this week," she replied. "I'll have to consult with Will Darcy before we hire anyone."  
  
Wickham swallowed visibly, adjusted his tie, and couldn't get out of there fast enough.  
  
As they flew to California that night, she recounted the story to Will, but he only smiled politely. Lizzy felt unaccountably like she ought to apologize; instead she only frowned. "Will, are you okay?"  
  
He rubbed his neck. "I'm fine, Lizzy."  
  
"You're a terrible liar, you know."  
  
"I do, actually," he replied, making her smile.  
  
She turned and kissed his shoulder. "You were upset before Jane's meeting."  
  
He sighed and glanced around. It was the closest they were going to get to privacy, with most of the cabin asleep. "I got a call from my uncle."  
  
"The Senator?" she asked, confused as to how Jim Fitzwilliam could upset Will.  
  
"No, no," he replied. "My great-uncle, Frederick Darcy."  
  
"Your uncle is a Supreme Court Justice."  
  
It was his turn to frown. "You didn't know?"  
  
"I... hadn't made the connection. Probably because Justice Darcy could make Joe McCarthy look like a communist."  
  
He raised his eyebrows at the comparison. "Yeah. When my parents got engaged, Uncle Frederick told my dad that my mom was either a hippie or a whore, and if he went through with it, they were never going to speak again. Unfortunately he's never been good at following through."  
  
"Why was he calling?"  
  
"To congratulate me and tell me he's voting for Connolly."  
  
"Well, maybe he won't follow through."  
  
Will looked at her, startled, before he laughed quietly. He pulled her closer and kissed her. "Even if he does, he's in the district. No way the district is even close."  
  
Lizzy smiled, glad to have cheered him up, but her smile fell as she had a realization. "Frederick Darcy. F. William Darcy."  
  
All his discomfort was back in a moment. "Yes. William was for my mom's family, and they were always going to call me that. But naming me Frederick was an attempt to mollify the old man."  
  
"Did it work?"  
  
"Probably wasn't necessary. My immediate family was all the family he had left by then." He shifted for a moment. "Anyway, I've spent my adult life trying to keep that connection quiet. If we ever get married—"  
  
He stopped himself short, blushing as much as Lizzy had ever seen a man blush. "If we ever get married?" she repeated, highly amused.  
  
"Sorry," he said, looking down at the tablet in his lap. "I'm an old-fashioned guy. You know that."  
  
"I do," she replied, and they both laughed a little at her choice of words. "So what happens if we ever get married?"  
  
"If Uncle Frederick is still kicking around, you should expect another breach in the family. He won't take another liberal well."  
  
"So you're supposed to marry a conservative and what, become one?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
Lizzy didn't say anything more, and turned the conversation in another direction, but her mind was still on the subject when the plane landed. Will's family really was startling, a President on one side and a Justice on the other. Lizzy knew her grandfather, and to some extent her father, had a fair amount of notoriety in scientific circles, but it was nothing to this.  
  
It should have worried her, but it didn't. So Will had a messy family with absurd connections. What did that have to do with how she felt about him? He had much deeper flaws than this, and she loved him anyway. Surely she could get over this too.  
  


* * *

  
A brand new bus, wrapped with the Gardiner for America logo, awaited them at the airport in San Francisco. Will wasn't crazy about the color scheme but Charlotte told him he didn't get a say in aesthetic matters.  
  
The senior staff headed to Matlock, more than an hour outside the city, where his aunt and uncle were waiting with a number of prominent Democrats. The fundraiser in the city would happen the next night, but this meeting was all business. Jim Fitzwilliam had been their first high-profile endorsement, and as a result the Senator was hosting one of the most important meetings of the campaign to date.  
  
The Governor was several minutes late to the meeting; Will suspected his uncle was the cause of delay. She shook hands with most of the bigwigs before settling next to Richard at the head of the table. "I want to thank you all for coming here," she said. "We have a lot of ground to cover, but I know the best minds of the party are represented in this room. Many of you were supporting other candidates—some of you  _were_  other candidates, come to think of it." There was some quiet chuckling, and Will smiled too. "Either way, thank you for your support today. I look forward to defying our party's stereotype by uniting the party now. And of course, we've got two opportunities coming up for that, the convention and our VP selection."  
  
In meetings over the last week it had been decided that Richard's father would head the VP committee. Richard opposed the idea on the grounds of some sort of reverse nepotism, but Will talked him around. Jim Fitzwilliam knew everyone in the party, knew where all the bodies were buried and what to do about them. There was no one better to manage the process. Even if he picked himself, they'd be well off.  
  
That night, the family gathered after a long, raucous supper with the staff. "Will Andrew or Rachel be around this week?" Will asked after hugging his aunt properly.  
  
"Rachel and the kids, yes, Andrew's a maybe," Alice replied.  
  
Richard laughed. "He was really asking about Jeff."  
  
"Jeff?" she repeated, bemused.  
  
"If Jeff's here, Will's going to want to hide Lizzy for the duration."  
  
On the other side of the room, Jim chuckled. "Oh, that's right. I had to fire him from the campaign for not doing anything but bother Lizzy."  
  
Will looked at his uncle in surprise. "I didn't realize that."  
  
"Lizzy's never told you about it?" Richard said as they all sat down.  
  
"She mentioned something about it when we met," he admitted. "She thought there was a good chance I was like him and was going to spend the entire meeting trying to look up her skirt or down her dress."  
  
Richard and Jim erupted in laughter again. "And now that you've actually done both—"  
  
"Richard James Fitzwilliam!" Alice scolded.  
  
Will laughed, though. "Far from the worst he's said, Aunt Alice."  
  
She was still frowning at her son as she addressed Will. "So why isn't Lizzy here now?"  
  
"She didn't want to intrude on the family."  
  
"Well, that's nonsense," Jim said. "Call her, get her down here."  
  
"No, no," Will protested, holding up a hand. "She genuinely has a lot of work to do tonight. She had to come up with a reason to stay away so she'd actually work."  
  
"And you don't have a pile of work?" Richard asked.  
  
"I'm delegating to Chuck for the night."  
  
Eventually the group split; Richard went into deep conference with his father, likely talking over every decision he had made for the last year and every decision to come. Will stayed with his aunt, wandering out to the portico overlooking the Presidential library across the way. "Jim keeps coming out here when we're at Matlock," Alice said. "Being President has never been his ambition, but he's living through Richard now."  
  
Will nodded. "Richard never ceases to amaze me. Sometimes I think about when we were kids and Grandpa was running for reelection, and it seems ridiculous to have someone trusting us to run a campaign."  
  
"Your parents would be proud, you know. Both of them." Will opened his mouth, but his aunt stopped him with a look. "They would be, Will. George wouldn't like where the Republican Party has gone in the last ten years. He wasn't too happy about it for ten years before that. And Anne..." Alice's eyes grew bright, and Will bowed his head, remembering how close his aunt and his mother were. "Anne was always proud of you. This would be no exception."  
  
Uncomfortable with the line of conversation, Will tried to deflect it. "I think they'd rather have had grandchildren."  
  
His aunt laughed lightly. "Probably, yes!" Then she narrowed her eyes. "Speaking of, when are you going to make an honest woman out of Lizzy?"  
  
"An honest—" Will straightened up reflexively. "I haven't knocked her up!"  
  
"Say that a little louder, Will, so the secret microphones will pick it up."  
  
"Aunt Alice..."  
  
"Don't worry, we had those removed in the seventies." Her eyes were sparkling. "But seriously, Will. Is this relationship with Lizzy going anywhere? She's such an amazing young woman."  
  
"And I'm run-of-the-mill?" he asked, finding some humor. "I love her, Aunt Alice. I'm not sure where she wants the relationship to go but... I mentioned marriage last night. Slip of the tongue, but she didn't try to run away from me."  
  
"Well, that's a good sign, Will. Now tell me what your plan is."  
  
Will sighed, resigned to telling his aunt more than he really wanted to.  
  


* * *

  
When Lizzy came down to the grand foyer of the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco the next night, she stopped on the last step and sighed quietly. On the other side of the lobby were Will and the Fitzwilliam men, the Senator and his three sons, all in a row. Whatever else one said about that family, they could certainly dress for an occasion.  
  
Will was standing next to his uncle. Lizzy had never seen the two together and so had never quite realized how much Will resembled his mother's family. Gigi evidently favored the Darcys, both handsome in different ways.  
  
Then across the foyer, Will looked up and saw her. Though his uncle was speaking to him, he couldn't seem to look away from her. Blushing, Lizzy descended the last step and approached. By the time she reached them, Will's uncle and cousins were laughing at the rather besotted look on his face. "Lizzy!" the Senator said as she took Will's outstretched hand. "Good to see you again. You're looking well."  
  
"Thank you, sir. It's good to see you too," she replied. "How is Alice?"  
  
"Busy as ever. She'll be down soon, I imagine. You remember Andrew and Jeff, yes?"  
  
Richard coughed strangely, like he was choking back laughter. Andrew, in feigned concern, slapped his twin on the back. "Yes, sir," Lizzy said, with a look at Richard. "It's nice to see you both again."  
  
Alice Fitzwilliam arrived, eyeing her sons suspiciously as she greeted Lizzy. The women talked clothing for a minute, as both were wearing Armani, before they all headed to the ballroom, joining the staff that had already assembled there. Guests started arriving shortly thereafter, and Will kept Lizzy at his side. "Relax, Will," she said when they were between groups. "You're going to have me to yourself for three whole days soon, remember?"  
  
"No, I'm going with you to visit family who haven't seen you in years," he grumbled. "Are you sure we can't skip out to Nice or something?"  
  
She shook her head, short curled hair bouncing a bit. "Maybe after the election," she said with her sweetest smile.  
  
Will leaned down and quietly drawled, "If I have to wait that long to be alone with you, we're finding a nude beach, sweetheart."  
  
Lizzy was blushing again, but she knew how to respond. "You know the men are naked too, right?"  
  
His ears turned red, but they were waylaid by more attendees before either could say anything more.  
  
Twenty minutes went by before the party settled around them and they were alone, after a fashion. "Oh," Will said, seeing a welcome face on the far side of the ballroom. "Come on, I want to introduce you to someone."  
  
They crossed the room, Lizzy holding Will's hand as she skipped after his longer stride. "Will!" she cried, laughing even when she saw the campaign's photographer taking a picture of them. "Will, where are you taking me?"  
  
"Right here," he said, pulling her forward to his side. "Grandpa, I want you to meet Elizabeth Bennet. Lizzy, my grandfather."  
  
"Oh!" Lizzy said rather inelegantly. "Sir. Mr. President. Um, I mean..."  
  
Standing before her, former President Edward Fitzwilliam was smiling, and not unkindly. He was a handsome older man, and while Will had a darker complexion and a more muscular build, it was easy to see where the younger man had looked for a role model. Will carried himself like a dignified statesman, which must have been learned in his grandfather's wake. "Ms. Bennet, it's an honor to meet you. I've heard a great deal about you from my son and at least three of my grandsons."  
  
Lizzy suddenly felt she was doomed to spend all night blushing, but President Fitzwilliam was right. Jeff had harassed her, Richard had kissed her, and Will had... Well, "swept her off her feet" was probably the most concise way of putting it. Clearly something drew her to this family, and with Will at her side, she was beginning to understand.  
  
President Fitzwilliam could turn on the charm like any of his progeny. After a litany of compliments on her work for Governor Gardiner, he asked, "So where are you from, Lizzy? I understand you worked on my son's last campaign."  
  
"Depends on who you ask. I was looking into grad schools in California when I fell in with the Fitzwilliam clan," she said, making both men laugh. "I grew up in Chicago, but I was born in Switzerland."  
  
"Beautiful country," the President replied, sipping his glass of champagne. "Do you have family there?"  
  
Lizzy nodded. "There and in France. Will's coming with me to visit them when the Governor goes to Europe next month."  
  
"Oh, really?" President Fitzwilliam said, turning an amused look to his grandson. "This is starting to sound serious, young man."  
  
"Between you and Aunt Alice I feel like I'm going to get more than enough heckling about this," Will muttered.  
  
"Speak up, kid. You know I hate it when you mumble."  
  
Lizzy giggled even as she leaned into Will. He sighed, but also wrapped his arm around her bare shoulders and kissed the top of her head.  
  
"Come with me, Lizzy," the President said, pulling her away and tucking her hand over his arm. "Let's leave Will wondering what embarrassing stories I'm telling about him."  
  
The former President told her enough stories to make her stomach hurt from laughing, but it was something far more serious that stayed on her mind into the night. "He was always a shy boy," the man said. "He grew out of it to an extent, but he was always more likely to put his head down and get the job done. Then his parents died and his engagement fell apart, and I think if it hadn't been for Georgiana, he would have just shut down. He's not one to take the easy road, but it was too much for mere mortals."  
  
Lizzy nodded. "My mother died this year. Just a couple months ago, really. Will..." She paused for a moment, wondering how much to say. "Will came to see me there at the end. To help me. It was so hard, even though we knew it was coming." She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly tight. "I've thought occasionally since, how he had to bury both his parents all of the sudden and then hold his life together for his sister. He's a remarkable man, more than I ever realized."  
  
"Do you love him?"  
  
It was far too personal a question from a man she'd just met, but she answered it regardless. "Yes. Very much."  
  
President Fitzwilliam smiled and patted her hand where it rested on his arm. "You'll do, my dear."  
  
She gave him an arch look, trying to cover over some emotions still too raw. "I'm tolerable, then?"  
  
He laughed heartily. "Oh, oh, so much more than  _tolerable_ , Lizzy. But don't ever expect more than that from Justice Darcy."  
  
"So I've heard, but I can handle curmudgeons." She smiled up at him and withdrew her hand from his arm. "I have to go introduce you and the Senator and the Governor. It was wonderful meeting you, Mr. President."  
  
"Do me proud, young lady."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
She went to the podium and made the introductions; both Senator and President Fitzwilliam kissed her cheek when shaking her hand. It didn't entirely surprise her when Will found her as soon as he could. The Governor was speaking, so he drew her to the staff table at the back. "Which stories did he tell?" he murmured in her ear.  
  
"Oh, I think that's between the President and me, Fortinbras."  
  
His eyes lit up for a second, and she realized she probably hadn't called him that since they'd discussed his real name. "I'll get Richard to draft a Freedom of Information request."  
  
"Can't do it yourself?"  
  
"He's a lawyer. He should do lawyer things now and then."  
  
"I heard my name," Richard said from across the table.  
  
"They're flirting," Chuck said. "Just leave them alone, you'll never keep up."  
  
"We're not flirting," Will protested.  
  
"We are, Will," Lizzy said, patting his hand.  
  
"We're  _arguing_."  
  
"That's how we flirt."  
  
Richard tossed his napkin onto the table. "I don't want to know what foreplay involves."  
  
"The Oxford English Dictionary," Will replied without missing a beat.  
  
While the rest of the table laughed, Lizzy blushed. With Will's verbal proclivities, that wasn't far from the truth.  
  
She almost expected him to invite her into his room that night, especially after she untied his bow tie in the elevator and tried to keep it. She wasn't sure what she would have said if he'd asked, but the point was moot. He left her at her door with nothing more than a long, lingering kiss.  
  
For a little while she lay on her bed still in her ball gown, remembering when she met Will and wondered what was wrong with him. Sometimes, she still wondered.  
  
But France lay before them, and there they would have time away from the campaign and all its pressure. Even with the stress of family for her and the language for him, it would be a bit of an adventure. She had more confidence in the trip's success than was probably advisable, but as she got ready for bed that night, she didn't care. They'd gotten through much greater difficulties than this. Surely her family wasn't  _that_  bad.


	14. Chapter 14

> _Let's face it, these trips are glorified photo-ops. They exist solely for candidates to prove they can go outside the country and not, you know, break our foreign policy._
> 
> _Erica Jimenez, aka La Voz, June 10, 2014_

  
In London, Governor Gardiner was greeted by huge crowds, frankly much bigger than any of the staff anticipated. "This is crazy," Lizzy said to Richard after the Governor began speaking.  
  
"I know, I thought it always rained in London," Richard replied.  
  
Lizzy smacked his arm with her tablet. "You know what I meant."  
  
"Yeah. This is a lot of people just to see the Governor of Wisconsin." He adjusted his sunglasses. "And it's really sunny." While she rolled her eyes, he looked down at his watch. "When do you and Will head out?"  
  
"About an hour, if I can pry him away from the Governor's Berlin speech. I'm hoping his sense of punctuality wins out over the compulsive editing."  
  
"Remind him he can edit on the train."  
  
"I did. He says once we're on the train, he doesn't want anything to distract either of us. This trip is about meeting my family, and he doesn't want anything to split his focus."  
  
Richard smiled. "I didn't realize he was such a sap."  
  
"It's sweet. You'd know that if you could hold on to a girl for more than two weeks."  
  
He made a face. "I'm beginning to think women are overrated."  
  
"Underrated, Richard. Criminally underrated."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Make sure he relaxes in the Alps, okay? He needs it."  
  
Lizzy raised a brow. "What exactly are you expecting me to do?"  
  
Richard shook his head. "Get your mind out of the gutter, will you?"  
  
She merely smiled.  
  
Punctuality did win out in the end, and Lizzy and Will boarded the train within an hour. Despite what he'd said about focus, they spent most of that train ride and the trip under the English Channel talking about the campaign. It was force of habit; they talked about everything, and this was a huge part of their lives.  
  
When they reached French soil, Lizzy felt an exhilaration she hadn't felt in a while. She hadn't been to France in three years, and being there with Will was even better than she imagined. Those summer trips to the French and Swiss Alps were some of the best times of her childhood and adolescence, but something told her this one would far surpass all of them in her memory.  
  
Will had, in college, once traveled to Paris with his family at Christmas, but there was no time for sightseeing or even leaving the station before boarding the next train. On a high-speed train it only took a couple hours to get to their stop, and they walked out of the station there long enough to take in the view of the mountains. "Are there any castles near Saint-Étienne?" Will asked suddenly.  
  
Lizzy laughed. "I wouldn't have taken you for an enthusiast."  
  
He shrugged, seeming self-conscious. "It's something you don't see every day at home."  
  
"I think there's a couple ruins in the area. Old churches too."  
  
"Even better."  
  
"You realize if I say we're going to a castle, all my cousins' kids are going to want to come too."  
  
He chuckled. "You're the one who speaks the language. You're going to wind up keeping them in line."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you can figure out how to yell 'no, no, don't jump off that.'"  
  
"I'm sure falling builds character. Besides, not my kids."  
  
"Do you want kids?" Lizzy asked, so suddenly it startled her as much as Will.  
  
"Says the woman who teased me about a hypothetical marriage scenario?" he said, with the grin that always made her breath catch.  
  
She took his hand and led him back into the station. "It's not an unreasonable question."  
  
"Then you answer it first."  
  
Lizzy bit her lip for a moment. "I don't know," she admitted. "I'm not going to say my childhood was full of hardship, but when my parents' marriage was disintegrating, I spent a lot of time in my room trying to ignore them. I don't think my parents really thought about getting married or having kids. I think they just did it because they thought they were supposed to. I can't be that careless. Having kids isn't just about me. What I choose to do has real consequences for a whole other person."  
  
Will was quiet, and Lizzy wondered if she'd said too much. Then they were back in the terminal, getting on the train to Saint-Étienne, and his continued silence began to unnerve her. "Will?" she finally said. "Am I—did you..."  
  
"Elizabeth," he said. Her given name had never sounded so intimate as it did in his voice. He clasped her hand and brought it to his lips. "I don't have anything like your experience, sweetheart. My family was happy. But I think you're right. I do want to have children, but only if I can give them the kind of childhood my parents gave me."  
  
She nodded, but frowned. "You know there aren't guarantees."  
  
"Yeah, but if I know I'm not in a position to be the kind of father I want to be, it's not the right time."  
  
Lizzy leaned her head on his shoulder, thinking but not daring to say that he'd be a good father.  
  
"So what brought this on?" he asked after a minute's silence.  
  
"I don't know. I met your family, you're meeting mine." She focused on his class ring, which she was twisting around and around his finger. "You brought up marrying me, and it's not the least appealing idea I've ever heard." He nudged her with his shoulder and she smiled, at least for a little while. "You're about to meet my father, and I think you're going to understand the colossal mistake my mother made. If I'm going to get married, if I'm going to have kids, it's going to be with the right person. I'm not repeating my parents' mistakes. I'm not making those promises to someone I can't respect, or who can't respect me."  
  
With some trepidation, she lifted her head to look at him. They'd avoided the eight-hundred-pound gorilla thus far and she half-expected him to make a joke to deflect it, but his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes were very serious as he met her gaze. He kissed her gently and nuzzled her cheek. "I know we're talking around the subject, sweetheart, but there's no one I can see in my life but you."  
  
Lizzy felt her whole body tremble, and for a fleeting moment she was sure he was going to propose right there, on the train. The craziest part of it was that she didn't think she would mind, and she was almost certain she would say yes.  
  


* * *

  
Will quickly learned how little French he remembered. He and Lizzy had reviewed his vocabulary, but inside the beautiful Alpine chalet was a whirl of people speaking a language he only understood in snatches. The Benoit family surprised him from the moment he disembarked from the train in Saint-Étienne. Lizzy's cousin Thierry met them in a tiny, beat-up Citroën. Will had expected someone around their age, but Thierry Pasquier was at least twenty years older than Lizzy, a balding man with no sense of fashion and a distinctly avuncular air. The cousins chatted in French for a minute before Lizzy switched back to English. "Thierry, this is Will Darcy," she said. "Be kind. He only speaks a little French."  
  
"It's good to meet you, Will," Thierry said, with a firm handshake. "In three days I hope you speak more than a little French."  
  
Will nodded, belatedly remembering he ought to smile as well. "I do too. You're the one who alerted us to that ridiculous story about the Governor's daughter, right? Thanks for that."  
  
Thierry waved him off. "You lot did the work. And did it well, I should say."  
  
"It hasn't completely gone away," Lizzy grumbled. "Whack jobs."  
  
"We have those in France too," Thierry said. "Come along, we can chat on the way."  
  
They got the luggage into the hatchback's impossibly small trunk, and then Will started to get into the back seat. "No, no!" Lizzy cried. "You have legs a mile long! You are not getting back there!"  
  
She shoved him aside and climbed into the back before he could do more than stare. Then he looked across the car to Thierry, who was opening the driver's side. "Let her do what she wants, Will. She'll only do it anyway."  
  
"That's actually true," he conceded, to Thierry's amusement.  
  
At the chalet Will couldn't keep up with the introductions to more than forty cousins of various degrees and aunts and uncles. Only one seemed entirely critical to Lizzy. Her grandfather was a very old man by anyone's standards. He didn't stand when Lizzy approached, but said in a musical voice, "Élisée!"  
  
Will smiled, liking that name for her more and more. Lizzy swooped down to kiss her grandfather. " _Bon anniversaire_ ,  _Pépère_!"  
  
She kissed her grandmother's cheeks too, then turned and reached for Will. He took her hand and stepped forward. "Pépère, Mémère, this is Will Darcy," she said, holding his hand tightly.  
  
The old man pushed himself up and stood straight and tall. "Darcy?" he repeated, clapping his shoulder. "You must be French too, young man."  
  
Even though Lizzy told him about her grandfather's gift for languages, Will was surprised by the man's fluency. "A couple centuries ago, in the Pyrenees," Will said. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."  
  
Lizzy helped her grandmother stand up too. "Will, Henri and Sabine Benoit."  
  
Sabine, even tinier than her granddaughter, had a much thicker accent than her husband. She motioned for Will to lean down and she kissed his cheek. "Élisée says she is very happy. You must have something to do with that."  
  
"Did she?" he said, glancing at a now blushing Lizzy. He tugged her close for a kiss. "She's made me pretty happy too."  
  
The three spoke in English for Will's sake, but he found himself on the outside of the conversation nonetheless. He didn't mind. Lizzy was so animated, bright like he'd never seen her. She was adored here, and it made him wonder just how bad life with her father had been to wipe away the good memories of this family.  
  
He still wanted badly to know where the conversation about children had come from, but he was glad they'd had it. The campaign wouldn't last forever. Even if they won and life was just as crazy in the White House, they would at least be in one place day to day. They could put together a life with each other. Maybe marriage and family were in their future, maybe not, but he was glad to know she wasn't completely against the idea, and might be open to persuasion.  
  
Eventually Will got separated from Lizzy, and he wandered into the huge kitchen, where half a dozen adults and a couple older children were cooking. A tall woman in her fifties looked at him skeptically when he offered to help, but soon Lizzy's Aunt Aurélie learned that whatever he lacked in the language, he made up for in cooking skill. She directed him in English as basic as his French to deal with a pile of herbs. Feeling his pride was on the line, he rolled up six or eight mint leaves and proceeded to chop them into a very fast, very fine chiffonade.  
  
Aurélie looked at what he was doing and sighed, arms akimbo as she shook her head. " _Vous êtes démonstrateur?_ " she said, and though he didn't have the faintest idea what she said, he grinned and moved on to the rosemary.  
  
He and Aurélie soon established a rapport even though neither was fluent in the other's language. When Lizzy found him more than an hour later, she laughed and laughed. "Food is chapter five or something in French I," he pointed out. "And about half the culinary vocabulary is French. Your aunt and I are good."  
  
"Guillaume!" Aurélie said. "The garlic!"  
  
"Back to work, Guillaume," Lizzy said, eyes sparkling.  
  
"Élisée," said a young man coming into the kitchen. Will didn't follow what he said, but he did catch the word  _père_ , and he frowned slightly in concern.  
  
"Worry about your garlic, Will," Lizzy said. "Meeting him can wait."  
  
He hadn't even thought about Lizzy's father yet, and he wondered how they had come from another continent and gotten there first. He did as Lizzy asked and Aurélie commanded, and tended to the garlic.  
  
Aurélie ran him out of the kitchen before long to supervise the children setting the table in the dining room. She was setting up another huge table in the kitchen, and Will thought she'd given herself the easier job. He could name all the tableware and give directions, but the children were giggling and running more than he could really control. The oldest of the girls, an eight-year-old named Audrey, scolded the rest and, when the table was finished, took Will's hand and tugged him out of the room.  
  
Lizzy smiled when she saw them. "Should I be worried?" she asked, even as Audrey ran off.  
  
"I think she was protecting me or something," Will replied.  
  
"She's very motherly."  
  
"I noticed."  
  
She took a deep breath. "You should meet my father."  
  
He nodded and followed her through the crowd attracted by the smell of supper. The man was reading something off his phone and didn't look up right away when Lizzy started the introduction. "Will, this is Thomas Bennet, my father. Papa, this is Will Darcy."  
  
The entire thing was delivered lifelessly. Will had to wait for him to put his phone away before shaking his hand. "Good to meet you, Mr. Bennet," Will said.  
  
Thomas merely nodded.  
  
Lizzy looked desperate to forward some sort of conversation, but before she could, someone needed her attention. Will felt fairly certain this would be the only time he'd be even remotely alone with her father. Thomas looked uncomfortable with the situation, but he looked at Will with something like interest. "How long have you and my daughter been together?" he asked.  
  
Will knew Thomas was asking how long he and Lizzy had been dating, and the real answer was a little complicated. The answer he gave was rather different in its intent. "I was with her when her mother died," he said. "I was also with her two weeks later when you finally called."  
  
Thomas went stiff, his face stern. Will was too sure in his convictions to be flustered by Mr. Bennet, whatever he had to say. With a curt nod Will walked away, wanting to find Lizzy again.  
  
They found each other a couple minutes later, and Will was puzzled to find her looking embarrassed. "Darlin', what's wrong?"  
  
She shook her head. "Nothing, it's just... Louis, Aunt Aurélie's son, was telling me where they put our stuff, because he wasn't sure we actually knew."  
  
"And?"  
  
"They put us in a room to ourselves."  
  
"Oh." Her embarrassment made more sense. "We can figure that out, Lizzy."  
  
"Oh, I know. My cousins were just having a good time at my expense."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"They thought I was being very American about it."  
  
He rolled his eyes, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Let them laugh. They're family. They'd find something else to laugh about anyway."  
  
Lizzy looked up at him with a smile. "When did you get so smart about families?"  
  
Will laughed. "You've met mine, remember?"  
  


* * *

  
"He is protective of you," Thierry said quietly to Lizzy after dinner. "I heard him speaking to Uncle Thomas before. Your father really didn't call when your mother passed away?"  
  
Lizzy shook her head, biting her lip. "Took him two weeks to get his head out of the lab or whatever he was doing. He's never really been a father, so I don't know what I was expecting from him."  
  
Thierry smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, Élisée."  
  
"Nothing to be done. He's never going to change. Somehow Will understands that, even though he had wonderful parents who were involved in his life."  
  
"Had?"  
  
"They died in a car accident about ten years ago. He practically raised his sister."  
  
"Then he knows at least a little about such things."  
  
"More than you do, certainly."  
  
Thierry laughed.  
  
Will approached them, looking pleased. "Aurélie is teaching me how to make croissants tomorrow."  
  
Lizzy and Thierry both gasped. "Has she ever taught someone her croissant recipe?" he asked.  
  
"Not that I know of."  
  
"Well," Will said, "I do need something from you."  
  
"As long as it doesn't involve rolling pastry."  
  
He laughed. "No, no, far more complicated. Explain who goes with whom."  
  
Thierry patted Lizzy on the head. "Good luck."  
  
Lizzy watched him go and smoothed her hair down in irritation. "All right," she said. "Pépère and Mémère fled France when the war started. They were living under the name Bennet in Switzerland. All of the kids were born with that name. The oldest boys changed their names to Benoit when Pépère decided to go back to it."  
  
"But your father didn't?"  
  
"No, he had published his dissertation as Thomas Bennet. Anyway, in order, Eve, Bruno, Gilles, Thomas, Nathalie, and Aurélie." As she spoke, she pointed out the various people. "Eve married Julien. Their kids are Thierry and Claire. Bruno is married to Camille. Their kids are Adam, Philippe, and Alexandre. Gilles is currently married to Marie, but Agathe and Margot are from his first marriage. Then there's Nathalie and Lionel, with Sophie and Charles. Aurélie is married to Pierre, and their kids are Louis, Eduard, and Giselle." She decided to hold off on her cousins' children.  
  
"Giselle?" Will asked.  
  
"Uncle Pierre took Aunt Aurélie to the ballet for their first date."  
  
"Betrayal of true love. That's a cheerful first date."  
  
"Yes, well, you've never taken me on any date, so you have no room to talk."  
  
He looked surprised. "I suppose that's technically true."  
  
"Not technically, actually."  
  
"Well," he said, sitting on a bar stool and placing his hands on her hips to pull her in, "I guess I'm going to have to rectify this situation somehow."  
  
Lizzy raised a brow. "How do you propose to do that?"  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know?"  
  
She would have kissed him, but Audrey suddenly ran up and grabbed one of Lizzy's hands. "Lizzy, someone must play when we sing!"  
  
"We can sing for Pépère without the piano, Audrey," Lizzy pointed out, thinking that was what the child meant. "And I haven't touched a piano since I was your age."  
  
"Mama wants someone to play when we sing."  
  
"Doesn't your mama play?"  
  
Audrey shook her head.  
  
"I can play," Will said, to Lizzy's complete surprise. "Just the normal song, right?"  
  
Lizzy looked to Audrey, who looked at the grown-ups like they were idiots. Audrey started singing, and Will cut her off quickly. "Yeah, I can play for you, Audrey." Audrey dragged Will off, and Lizzy watched as he raised the soundboard. Then Aurélie came in with the enormous cake full of candles and Will played a cue for the song.  
  
After the singing, Lizzy helped her aunt pass out the cake, and Will remained at the piano. "Keeping your seat while you still have it?" Lizzy asked, kissing the top of his head while handing him a plate with cake.  
  
"Something like that."  
  
A few minutes later, Lizzy's grandmother asked Will if he could play something more. He asked for requests, and Aunt Nathalie suggested something French. Will immediately launched into a can-can, ignoring the boos until someone threw a wad of paper at his face. Everyone laughed, Will included, until he started to play.  
  
It was "Clair de lune," a piece Lizzy had heard so often in movies and commercials and everything else that she would have said it had lost all value, but not anymore. Will's playing was light, precise, and full of passion. Lizzy thought she was surely hearing it the way Debussy intended. He was a phenomenal performer, lost in the music he was playing, and she was reminded of watching him write. He enthralled the room as much with the instrument as he could with the pen.  
  
A few minutes later he let the last chord linger and fade into silence, and it took a few seconds before his audience applauded enthusiastically. He was asked to play again, and a pile of sheet music appeared from somewhere. Eventually he wound up with three teenage girls standing around him, singing when he played folk songs and watching when he played Bach. Lizzy stood out of the way, watching and hoping she would never cease to be surprised by him.  
  
"Did you know he could play?" her cousin Agathe asked.  
  
Lizzy shook her head. "He mentioned piano lessons once, but I never knew he could play like this."  
  
They stood observing him quietly for a minute. Then Agathe leaned closer. "If you decide you don't want him, can I have him?"  
  
Lizzy laughed sharply and elbowed her cousin.  
  
It was growing late, and before long most everyone turned in for the night. Even Will's little audience of admiring teenagers was scooted off to bed. The room wasn't empty when Lizzy approached him, still at the piano, but it was the closest they'd come to being alone since they arrived at the chalet.  
  
Ever since they stepped out of the station in Saint-Étienne, she had watched him fold himself into her family. He didn't speak the language well but found ways to communicate. She knew he wasn't comfortable around strangers, but he was making such an effort on her behalf. He wanted to be a part of this, and it made her feel loved, cherished, adored.  
  
She reached his side and touched his hair first and then his shoulder. The two-part invention he was playing slowed and stopped as he looked up at her. Feeling brave, she leaned down and kissed him slowly and sweetly.  
  
"Elizabeth," he breathed when she pulled away, leaning his cheek into her hand.  
  
"William," she replied, "come to bed."  
  
His eyes widened slightly, and his hands almost shook as he closed the piano. Lizzy went up the stairs ahead of him, but it wasn't long before he'd caught her hands and pulled her into his arms. "Lizzy, Lizzy," he murmured, "Elizabeth, darlin'..."  
  
She laughed softly and dragged him into their room. "William," she repeated, liking the sound of his given name.  
  
"Are you sure?" he suddenly asked. "We're three doors down from your grandfather!"  
  
"He's deaf as a post without his hearing aid," she told him, giggling as he shut the door firmly.  
  
"Good."  
  
She got to work on the tie, which he had never bothered to take off. " _Inquiète-toi plutôt au sujet de ma grand-mère_."  
  
He cupped her face and kissed her, deep and wild and urgent. Lizzy had his shirt untucked and unbuttoned by the time he pulled back, looking confused. "Wait, what did you say?"  
  
She could only laugh helplessly until Will had her down on the bed, kissing her so thoroughly she couldn't laugh for a long, long time.  
  


* * *

  
In the morning, Will woke slowly, aware of unfamiliar but fine bedding, warm sunlight through sheer curtains, and muted noise outside the bedroom. He was also acutely conscious of Lizzy in his arms, her short hair half-covering her face and her body warm against his. He could not fathom how this was so much better than he remembered from before.  
  
In fairness, they had really only done this a few times. Before their fight on Super Tuesday they really hadn't been together long, and the desire for secrecy had kept them apart too much. He hoped those days were well and truly over, because he never wanted to spend another night without her.  
  
In the back of his mind, Will thought of a cold, soulless hotel room in Nashua. It seemed far more than an ocean away now. Then he had only been infatuated with her, entranced by a beautiful woman with the intellect to match his. Now he  _knew_  her, really knew her, had seen her in triumph and in anguish, flushed with anger and flushed with love. And he loved her now, loved her so much that whatever he called love in the past was like a boy in his father's suit, nothing more than a weakly understood aspiration.  
  
She stirred, and he smiled, holding her closer. "Good morning," he said, lips already pressed against the back of her neck.  
  
"I thought I must have dreamed this," she whispered. She turned over and touched his face. "I'm glad I didn't."  
  
"You didn't dream about me?" he asked, unable to resist the opportunity to tease her.  
  
She gave him a wicked grin. "What if I dreamed about Richard?"  
  
"Well, I'll have to fix that."  
  
Will pushed her to her back and was just hovering over her when there was a sharp rap on the door and it flew open. Lizzy gasped and grabbed the sheets while Will tried to shield her from view. "Guillaume—oh!" said a woman, and he twisted around to see Aurélie in the doorway.  
  
It was hard to say which of the three was most embarrassed. Aurélie said something very quickly and backed out of the room, almost slamming the door behind her. "She should know better than to barge in!" Lizzy said, suddenly overcome with laughter.  
  
Will agreed, but he was too embarrassed yet to laugh.  
  
Ten or fifteen minutes later, he'd taken a quick shower, dressed, and made his appearance in the kitchen. At first Aurélie was all business, but then she directed him to a sticky mass of bread dough on the counter.  
  
"Knead," she told him. "I saw you have strong shoulders."  
  
He was still kneading and still blushing when Lizzy came in for breakfast.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the fifth season of The West Wing there was an episode done in the style of a TV documentary (a fictionalized Frontline), and this chapter is something of an homage to that. It's also inspired by the reporting done by the now-defunct Newsweek, wherein the magazine had reporters with unusually free access to the campaigns, with the condition that none of the information they gathered would be published until after the election. The 2008 reporting resulted in the book Game Change by John Heilemann and Mark Halperin; a similar book, Double Down, was published about the 2012 election.

**MARGARET GARDINER AND THE SILICON SWING**  
  
_Editor's note: The reporting for this story was concluded in June 2014. By agreement with the Gardiner campaign, publication was held until after the general election._  
  
**M** ARGARET GARDINER, the Democratic Governor of Wisconsin, has run a campaign free of serious scandals. This is not unusual for a candidate who secures the nomination. But her organization is unusually steeped in a single scandal that should have permanently tainted nearly all of her senior staff. That these men and women survived it and then came together to work a campaign as successful as Governor Gardiner's is going to be the subject of dissertations for decades to come.  
  
In 2010, James Fitzwilliam was running for a fourth term as California's senior Senator. The only son of former President Edward Fitzwilliam, his election seemed to be in the bag. His opponent was a state Senator whose legislative colleagues had been widely blamed for California's budget crisis. Among the thirty-four senate races nationwide, Jim Fitzwilliam's reelection was a rare sure thing.  
  
The ground began to shift when Charlotte Lucas, a young accountant at Cencal Technologies, came to the US Attorney for Northern California, Sara Martinez. "She was nervous about it, but she had compiled the research to make any law school student jealous," Martinez says. "The evidence was pretty compelling. Bill Collins had been embezzling millions, and not very subtly. The big mystery was how he hadn't been caught years earlier."  
  
Lucas worked for Cencal for five years before blowing the whistle on Collins. She had recently been promoted when she discovered significant discrepancies in accounting that became the foundation of the FBI investigation dubbed Silicon Swing. The investigation would eventually take down the husband-and-wife team that was the chairman and CEO of Cencal, Louis and Catherine de Bourgh. Cencal's stock plummeted. Bill Collins, the de Bourghs, and half a dozen executives eventually went to jail. But none of this would have had much in the way of political impact if it weren't for the fact that Catherine de Bourgh is the older sister of Senator Jim Fitzwilliam.  
  
Any political reporter, from the most recent J-school graduate to a Watergate veteran, would predict the Fitzwilliam campaign would spend at least a day scrambling for footing, if not going into a tailspin. To make matters worse, the Senator's longtime spokesman, Juan Casillas, was on family leave after his wife gave birth to their first child. This left the campaign's first line of defense in the hands of a twenty-four-year-old deputy named Elizabeth Bennet.

  
  
**T** HE GARDINER campaign has jokingly been referred to as the Gardiner-Bennet campaign. The first was Jane Bennett, a University of Wisconsin graduate who quit her job, drove to New Hampshire, and began volunteering in the nascent campaign's phone bank. Eventually she would be placed in charge of scheduling and advance. In that capacity she keeps the campaign running day-to-day, a job that has crushed experienced politicos, let alone a relative neophyte. Jane Bennett is not a policy heavyweight, but she is one of the most important members of the Governor's staff.  
  
Mary Benet, the founder of Verity Innovations, was the youngest woman to make a billion dollars in the tech industry. This would be groundbreaking under any circumstances, but Benet has an added degree of difficulty: she was born deaf. Before being hired by the Gardiner campaign, she had done nothing more political than activism for and within the deaf community. After divesting herself of Verity, she found herself with time on her hands for a "small project"—revolutionizing the way campaigns use technology.  
  
Last of these three remarkable women—by strange coincidence, all members of the same sorority pledge class—is Elizabeth Bennet. As a high school senior she was captain of her school's speech team and won the national tournament in impromptu speaking. That early training shows. In front of a crowd of reporters, she is witty and charismatic and completely in command of the conversation. The press can be an unruly mob on a good day, but Lizzy (as she is commonly known) wrangles them with grace and good humor. If they notice her little jabs at them, they're far too charmed to care.  
  
Jim Fitzwilliam's reelection campaign was her first job in politics. "My stepfather apparently worried about taking me places in public when I was a teenager," she says. "Too worried I'd offend someone with my politics. I'm really not sure where the interest came from, because he and Mom weren't political at all."  
  
Senator Fitzwilliam hired her in large part because of the depth and breadth of her political knowledge. "She's obviously very telegenic, very easy to watch," the Senator says of her. "But that's really only part of the job. You have to have an enormous amount of information at your fingertips, even if you've got a research team backing you up. And the day the story about Cencal broke, nobody knew anything."  
  
Six weeks before Election Day, the embezzlement investigation was leaked to the  _Sacramento Bee_. The timing couldn't have been worse for Senator Fitzwilliam.  
  
  
  
**"I**  KNEW who Catherine de Bourgh was, but that was about as much as I knew," Lizzy explains. "I knew basically that Cencal was a Silicon Valley firm. They made microchips. I'd never met Mrs. de Bourgh, but part of me was impressed by her. There were a lot of women working in Silicon Valley back in the sixties—they hired women because women were supposed to be better at the delicate work of assembling chips—but there weren't many women who rose to management, let alone CEO."  
  
Lizzy Bennet's feeling about Catherine de Bourgh is not uncommon. Not seeing a defined place for herself either in her family's political operation or in Matlock Vineyard, a young Catherine Fitzwilliam struck out on her own. After college, she went to work for Cencal Technologies as one of hundreds of young women assembling integrated circuits. She rose through the lower ranks quickly, attracting the attention of Louis de Bourgh, son of the company's founder.  
  
The couple was married not long after, and was soon a force to be reckoned with in the tech world. Catherine returned to her Fitzwilliam roots in the 1990s, growing more active in the Democratic party, eventually becoming one of the most prominent fundraisers in California. She did some fundraising for her brother until the embezzlement charges became public during the 2010 campaign.  
  
Sources close to the family, however, have suggested that private contact between Catherine de Bourgh and Jim Fitzwilliam came to an end in 2001, after the deaths of their younger sister Anne and her husband, George Darcy. Catherine contested her sister and brother-in-law's will, wanting custody of twelve-year-old Georgiana Darcy. Senator Fitzwilliam supported the provisions of the will, namely that custody be granted to the girl's twenty-four-year-old brother, William Darcy. The matter was settled three months later when the judge dismissed the suit, but the rift in the family was already formed.  
  
It is unclear if Lizzy Bennet knew about the Fitzwilliam family drama when the scandal broke. When asked if she had any comment about the noise coming out of the US Attorney's office, she gave a rather confused look and asked Blake Riedy to repeat the question.  
  
"I've got a source in the US Attorney's office saying that Catherine de Bourgh is under investigation for embezzling some fifty million dollars from Cencal Technologies," Riedy said.  
  
"Really," Lizzy replied. "That would be quite a thing. I'd say either you're going to win an award or someone from the US Attorney's office is getting fired."  
  
Amid the reporters' laughter, she continued, "Look, this is the first I've heard of it, but I can assure you that Senator Fitzwilliam has never been anywhere near the daily, monthly, yearly, or epochal business of his brother-in-law's company. The Senator has gone out of his way to avoid being anywhere close to regulating or overseeing the tech industry precisely to avoid the appearance of impropriety, let alone actual impropriety."  
  
Lizzy Bennet had just committed the cardinal sin of professional politics: the categorical denial.  
  
  
  
**T** HE FITZWILLIAM campaign was committing another sin within a few days. Instead of distancing himself from his sister, Jim Fitzwilliam was trying to pull off a seven-ten split. While cooperating with the US Attorney and returning all the money his sister had raised for him in that election cycle, he was also making statements of support for his sister and brother-in-law.  
  
Lizzy Bennet, meanwhile, was finding her gift for filibustering the press. As she did earlier this year when rumors arose about the Gardiners' adopted daughter, she came to the problem with stacks and stacks of documentation. In a court of law, it likely would not have held up, being almost entirely composed of publicly available information. But Lizzy commanded the story, keeping the press busy reporting the daily deluge she was delivering. "And that," says Richard Fitzwilliam, the Senator's son, "is what makes her a phenomenal spokeswoman. It's honestly not about concealing the truth. It's about communicating the truth in the most productive way possible. Those couple weeks, Lizzy absolutely had the right instinct. Proving a negative is nearly impossible, so the best course of action was to show how inconsistent the accusations were with Dad's character."  
  
The case soon took a strange turn for Richard Fitzwilliam as well. While delivering documents to the US Attorney, he met Charlotte Lucas, who had blown the whistle on his aunt's company. "To be honest, I thought she worked there," he explains. "I'd been in Martinez's office a few times and seen her around. I just introduced myself as Richard and she introduced herself as Charlotte. It took a couple weeks to get that sorted out. We actually laughed over it. I think we both needed a laugh."  
  
But was there a romantic relationship, as the California press suggested at the time? Charlotte denies it. "He was a friend when I really needed one, just in an unlikely place," she says. "My biggest reluctance in coming with him on this crazy campaign was the fear working so closely would destroy our friendship. But it turns out we work well together."  
  
When asked how she wound up in politics, Charlotte laughs. "I went back home to Wisconsin and got a job with the Governor. Best decision I ever made. Richard only paid attention to Governor Gardiner because I told him to."  
  
  
  
**R** ICHARD FITZWILLIAM is perhaps one of the best political operatives the Democratic party has seen in decades, due in no small part to the family he grew up in. "My brother Andrew and I were five when Grandpa ran for President the first time," he says. "Andrew couldn't have cared less but I was fascinated. Lucky, too, because in our family there's little reluctance to answer a kid's questions. I'm not sure how much I understood the first time, but four years later I really understood a lot more."  
  
It was an interesting education for Richard and his cousin, Will Darcy, whose first public appearance was as a three-week-old baby at the end of the convention that nominated his grandfather. Edward Fitzwilliam's presidency was hailed as turning a new leaf in Washington, heralding a new era of governmental openness after the secrecy and corruption of Watergate. President Fitzwilliam's commitment to honesty explains why so many were aghast when his daughter Catherine was accused of embezzlement, and why his son Jim, with a similar reputation for integrity, survived the Cencal scandal so cleanly. In the younger generation, both Richard and Will have walked away from candidates who could not live up to their exacting standards.  
  
This is the first time they have worked together, which came as a surprise to some. Perhaps they avoided it for the reasons Charlotte Lucas was reluctant to work with a friend. Perhaps it took a special kind of candidate to bring them together, or perhaps it was just coincidence. "My cousin Gigi [Georgiana Darcy] was graduating from Columbia College in Chicago," Richard explains. "I happened to email Charlotte, thinking we might manage to see each other that weekend. Turned out, she was going to be there because Governor Gardiner went to grad school at Columbia and had been invited to give the commencement speech."  
  
"So Richard and I were expecting to tune out until Gigi walked," Will expounds. "Most commencement speeches are... dry, let's say. But the Governor was remarkable. It wasn't your standard 'first day of the rest of your life' speech or  _carpe diem_  nonsense. She was authentic and funny and engaging, and she had vision. And I'd been planning to read a book."  
  
At the end of the speech, the cousins turned to each other. During the applause, Richard reportedly said, "Will, I've got a crazy idea."  
  
"Good," Will replied. "Now I don't have to admit to coming up with it first."  
  
  
  
**R** ICHARD CERTAINLY hails from rarefied circles, but Will Darcy may be the closest thing this country has to political royalty. Not only is he the grandson of a President, he is also the great-nephew of Frederick Darcy, one of the most conservative jurists on the Supreme Court. With such conflicting opinions within his family, it's hardly surprising to learn that he thought about eschewing civil service. "I've never been entirely comfortable with the more public aspects of my mother's family," Will admits. "I actually contemplated teaching for a while. That was short-lived, though. I've never been convinced there's such a thing as destiny, but sometimes it feels like this was inescapable."  
  
His current position, communications director and chief speechwriter for Gardiner for America, seems serendipitous to many. The pairing of speaker and writer is sometimes perilous, after all. The relationship between them usually requires time to develop into a working partnership; even then, it's not always easy to accomplish. Normally a candidate would bring a trusted writer into a campaign like this, but Governor Gardiner took a huge risk, relying on her new campaign manager to fill this important position for her.  
  
"I told her, there's just not that many writers out there of the caliber you need if you're going to win," Richard says. "I think it's easy to lose sight of that. Everybody learns how to write in school. Everybody who goes to college has to take some kind of writing course. But writing a speech is something we don't teach people, really. It's a different skill, writing something to be heard rather than read. And there are different levels of skill required too. Writing a speech about a policy initiative is a world away from writing a speech that convinces people to elect your boss President of the United States. Then beyond that, you've got to have someone who can write a convention speech, election night speeches, and hopefully an inaugural. There's just not that many writers out there who can do that."  
  
When asked about it, Charlotte Lucas concedes that Richard's assessment was unsettling. "I remember asking him if we were looking for a needle in a haystack," she said. "I mean, he was right, but he'd just convinced the Governor to run and then told us we didn't have the resources to win. He laughed at me and told us if we didn't mind a little benign nepotism, he had someone in mind."  
  
Richard had already approached his cousin Will, who was hard at work watching and reading Margaret Gardiner's speeches and other public appearances. "The key was the Columbia speech," Will says. "The Governor wrote it herself. It was the best representation of how she thinks, how she argues, how she presents herself. The point wasn't to emulate her, but to develop her voice into a Presidential voice."  
  
Richard's hunch proved correct. The Wisconsin Governor was already widely praised as an excellent public speaker, but with Will Darcy writing for her, she has become a rhetorical force.  
  
But it's not a job to be tackled alone. Just ten days into the job, Will was looking to hire a deputy, someone to share the writing load as he and Charlotte managed the campaign's message. He found his guy at an unlikely time and place, while avoiding an ex-girlfriend who's now a member of Congress.  
  
  
  
**"I**  REALLY don't want to talk about it" is all you'll get out of Will on the subject. Chuck Bingley is, as always, more forthcoming. As a grad student at Berkeley, Will was romantically involved with Caroline Bingley, now better known as Representative Bingley-Anderson of New York's first Congressional district. The congresswoman is also the sister of Chuck Bingley, Will's deputy.  
  
"I met Will once, I think, when he was dating my sister," Chuck explains. "The Gardiner campaign was in the Hamptons for a fundraiser last spring. You couldn't have a fundraiser in that district without my sister being there, and I was invited. I was startled to see Will, to be honest. It may have been a long time ago, but things ended very badly between him and Caroline. But I figured I had nothing to lose."  
  
Chuck approached Will and started a conversation. Chuck had worked for a couple Congressional candidates and the Governor of Connecticut. He knew Will was looking for a deputy and figured he would be great for the job, if his would-be boss could overlook the small matter of his surname.  
  
"We'd been talking, making jokes about some race in Vermont, I think, when he finally introduced himself and said I looked familiar," Chuck says. "He was pretty irritated by the subterfuge, but I managed to explain that I wanted to apply for the deputy job but thought he'd reject me out of hand. He stormed off, but a few minutes later he came back and told me to get to Nashua the next morning with five hundred words on the promise of education and we'd talk."  
  
Chuck's five hundred words evidently got the job done. He and Will became unlikely friends. A stranger friendship you'd be hard-pressed to find. Will is famously blunt and acerbic; Chuck is easygoing and friendly. Chuck's writing style is an effective curb on Will, who, when left to his own devices, tends to write rather long speeches full of four-syllable words. Like so many of the partnerships inside Gardiner for America, it's curious but effective.  
  
  
  
**A** T THE end of a two-month trial in 2011, Catherine de Bourgh, having refused any plea bargain, was sentenced to fifteen years in federal prison. Everyone else indicted in the matter pled to lesser charges, with the exception of Bill Collins, who refused to testify against his boss. Catherine divorced her husband, Louis, from prison. Cencal Technologies, one of the oldest firms in Silicon Valley, spiraled into bankruptcy and eventual liquidation, its assets bought up by other companies.  
  
Under the RICO Act, the de Bourghs' sprawling mansion in Rosings, California was seized as proceeds of illegal activity. The historic mansion had been extensively and expensively renovated in baroque style. Antiques and custom pieces made for a house that looked like something out of a magazine. Everything was seized. Louis' collection of American impressionist paintings was sold off. Catherine's garage of Bentleys, Rolls Royces, and Mercedes was impounded. Left untouched was a trust fund for the de Bourghs' daughter Anne, who requires near-constant medical attention.  
  
Jim Fitzwilliam won his race by only five percent, as a boring California reelect turned into one of the most watched races in the country. By the time voting began, Juan Casillas had come back to work, moving Lizzy Bennet back to her deputy position. Even so, by the end of the election she had other things to be concerned about: her mother had been diagnosed with cancer. She left public service to work for a public relations firm in Los Angeles in order to help pay for her mother's treatment.  
  
This campaign was a terrible repeat of history for Lizzy. On Super Tuesday, she abruptly disappeared from the Gardiner campaign. Two months later, an obituary for her mother appeared in the  _Chicago Tribune_. The cancer had returned, and this time there was nothing to be done.  
  
Upon her return, it became clear that an unlikely romance had developed between Lizzy Bennet and Will Darcy. The details are unknown, though there were always jokes about getting Lizzy to act as proxy whenever something was needed from Will. The staff seems to split evenly on whether or not the relationship came as a surprise.  
  
  
  
**I** N LATE June, the Gardiner campaign returned from a very successful trip to Europe. The Governor was welcomed with huge crowds in every stop, a strong contrast to Senator Connolly's problem-plagued trip to the Middle East. If nothing else, the trip should have erased any doubts Americans might have about how well a woman—specifically this woman—can handle foreign relations.  
  
Her staff warranted attention during the trip too. In the fifteen months since Governor Gardiner announced she was running for President, her staff has grown into an efficient and effective force, the kind of dedicated, expert group that's easy to imagine serving the President of the United States.


	16. Chapter 16

> _HOWE: They loved her in Europe—_
> 
> _KING: You know not everyone thinks that's a good thing, Nick._
> 
> _Fox News, July 2, 2014_

  
"It could be worse," Charlotte remarked to Lizzy as they stood in the kitchen of the Gardiners' house in Madison, taking a moment away from the argument in the front room. "Two years ago on the Fourth of July it was over a hundred degrees outside."  
  
"So you're saying tempers could be running even higher?" Lizzy said, taking a bottle of water from the refrigerator.  
  
Charlotte smiled. "Grab me one of those, would you?"  
  
"Me too," said a third woman, and Lizzy was surprised to see the Governor entering the kitchen.  
  
From the front room, the women in the kitchen could hear the current of discontent among the staff. Jim Fitzwilliam had practically met them at the airport with a list of a dozen Vice Presidential candidates when the campaign returned to the States. In the ten days since, they crisscrossed the country campaigning and quietly meeting with the prospects. The Governor had cut about half the list now, and the fight in the other room was over one of the remaining names, Regina Keller.  
  
Lizzy handed water bottles to Charlotte and the Governor. "Probably best to let them punch themselves out, ma'am."  
  
Governor Gardiner twisted off the cap of her bottle and sipped before she spoke. "Jack's first Christmas, we somehow got out of the house on the way to Ed's parents in Eau Claire without a single pacifier. So of course an hour down the road Jack wakes up screaming like the world is ending." Lizzy and Charlotte exchanged amused glances. "Ed pulled over at the first drug store we found. I got Jack-Jack out of his car seat and went inside, and as soon as I had a pacifier in hand, I got it out of the packaging and into his mouth. So I go up to pay for it, and by that point Jack isn't just quiet again, he's asleep again. I gave the empty packaging to the teenager at the register and for a minute, he just held it and kept looking back and forth between it and me. 'Trust me,' I said. 'It was an emergency.'"  
  
Charlotte and Lizzy both laughed. "Do we need to get some pacifiers for the guys?" Lizzy asked.  
  
"I need you two to go back and turn the fire down," the Governor replied.  
  
Even though part of her wanted to stay back and chat and split the plate of brownies on the counter with the Governor and Charlotte, Lizzy knew the Governor was right. She and Charlotte did as Governor Gardiner asked, heading back into the front room where the men were still at it. Chuck was speaking as they entered. "All I'm saying is, if she's the best person for the job, this argument is ridiculous. Why wouldn't we tap her for VP?"  
  
"That's what I'm saying, Chuck," Richard replied. "Regina Keller is a great choice. She's been in the Senate forever, she helps us out in Colorado, and she helps us paint a picture of an administration that knows what it's doing."  
  
"We're already up by nine in Colorado, genius," Will shot back. "Look, Regina Keller is great. She was my mother's hero. If I could make her queen of the known universe, I would, but if we do this, we turn into the tampon campaign."  
  
Unable to help herself, Lizzy let out a sort of choking noise. Will twisted around on the sofa looking a bit panicked. "I'm not saying I actually think that."  
  
"Oh, I know you're fond of outrageous metaphors," she teased, laying her hand on the back of his neck and rubbing gently. He was really tense.  
  
"I'm pretty sure he's not, Lizzy," Richard said skeptically.  
  
"I'm pretty sure your sarcasm meter is broken, Richard."  
  
Richard rolled his eyes. "So what do you think?" he asked her pointedly.  
  
"I'd love to pick Senator Keller," she said, and Richard sat up a little straighter. "I'd also like a pony."  
  
Richard let out a frustrated noise as he turned to Charlotte. "Please, please tell me you're being reasonable."  
  
Charlotte was always to-the-point. "We can't pick a woman, Richard."  
  
"What happened to female solidarity?" Richard asked.  
  
Lizzy and Charlotte exchanged a glance. "We agree with each other," they said together.  
  
Across the room, Chuck snickered, but Richard wasn't amused. "Seriously."  
  
"Richard, I'm not making light of this," Charlotte said, sitting next to Will and across from Richard. "I think Lizzy and I agree. We'd love to see Regina Keller as Vice President. She's a creative thinker, she's respected on both sides of the aisle, and if we take back the Senate this year she'll be a fantastic majority whip. But we're already asking people to do something they've never done before in this country. We can't look like a novelty ticket."  
  
Richard looked up at Lizzy and sighed. "Do you remember what you said to the media the first time you were asked if the country was ready to elect a woman?"  
  
Lizzy nodded. "The UK, India, Argentina, Canada, Australia, Brazil, Norway, Chile, Israel, Pakistan, all have elected female heads of state, some as much as half a century ago. The US cannot be so different that a woman would bring about the end of civilization." She perched on the arm of the couch and fiddled with the cap of her water bottle. "You two are the same about this, you know. You just assume the culture has caught up to the law."  
  
Will opened his mouth like he was going to object, but then relaxed. "Yeah, I do."  
  
Richard was still more serious. "Don't we have a responsibility to challenge that?"  
  
"We have a responsibility to show restraint too," Charlotte quietly pointed out.  
  
Richard looked around the room. From the sofa the three of them stared at him patiently; from the bay window, Chuck just shrugged. That seemed to be the last straw. "Fine," Richard said. "But we'll strongly consider Keller for a Cabinet post."  
  
They all agreed to that. When the Governor came back into the room, everyone was much calmer, though the heat was starting to get to them. "You all look like you're wilting," she said. "But I assume calmer heads have prevailed?"  
  
Lizzy was happy to let Richard speak. "The consensus is we can't nominate Regina Keller, qualified as she is, ma'am."  
  
Governor Gardiner nodded. "I know. She'll still be a great surrogate for us, and she'll continue to do great things no matter what happens with us."  
  
"Well, should the rest of the list say no..."  
  
The Governor let out an exasperated sigh. Walking past him, she patted his shoulder and said, "Bite your tongue, Rick."  
  
Before long the group decamped to the backyard, where Ed was grilling, but Will lingered where he was, grabbing Lizzy's hand as she walked by. She smiled and leaned down. "If you're wanting pie, you're going to have to make a run to the store."  
  
"No, I've got what I want." With a quick tug he pulled her down to his lap. "Hi."  
  
"Hi," she replied, kissing his nose. "What's got you in this mood?"  
  
He didn't look as lighthearted as she would have thought. "It occurred to me this morning," he said. "We broke up in this house."  
  
Lizzy took a deep breath. "We did, in fact."  
  
Will rubbed her back and leaned in to kiss the sensitive spot just above her collarbone. "I thought I loved you then," he said, low in her ear. "Maybe I did, but I didn't respect you like I should have."  
  
"Will," she said, suddenly breathless, "William."  
  
"It was something I needed to learn, darlin'. I was too focused on what I wanted from you and not on what you needed from me," he continued.  
  
"We're never going to settle who's more to blame, Will," Lizzy countered. "I was more concerned about what other people would think than what you thought. I wasn't willing to accept how important you'd already become to me."  
  
Will smiled, a shy half-smile hardly anyone but her ever saw. "And what am I to you now?"  
  
Remembering what he'd said in France, Lizzy cupped his cheek. "The only one I can imagine my life with."  
  
He drew her in for a kiss, curiously playful given what he'd just said. She'd grown used to all his contradictions over the last year, but she hoped beyond hope she would never grow tired of them. He was a complicated man, and she wanted to spend the rest of her life figuring him out.  
  
Will pulled away abruptly, breathing hard. For a minute they just sat there together in silence, foreheads touching and hands stilled. Then he took a deeper breath, moved back enough to meet her gaze, and said, "Marry me."  
  
" _Oh_ ," she gasped, wondering how she could be surprised by something so expected.  
  
When she didn't give him an answer right away, he started to babble. "I didn't intend to do this here. I meant to wait till the North Carolina swing. There's a ring at the house in Pemberley that I—"  
  
Lizzy cut him off with a brief kiss. "I don't care."  
  
"Lizzy," he murmured, fingers caressing the back of her neck. "Will you marry me?"  
  
She was smiling, biting her lip for a moment for fear she would cry. A strange feeling had washed over her—strange, but exhilarating—and she wanted this moment to last forever. "Yes," she told him, to his utter delight. "Yes, William, of course I will."  
  


* * *

  
Ed had lunch ready, but Will took Lizzy out the front door, going for a long walk with her through the neighborhood, ending at the swings in the park down the block from the Gardiner house. He hadn't talked so much about the future in years, but with Lizzy it was easy to make plans.  
  
"I want to hold off on telling everyone till I've actually given you the ring," he said, and he was a little amused when she objected.  
  
"Will, I don't need..."  
  
"Do you want endless mockery from Richard?" Will asked with a pointed look. "Because that's what happens if you don't have a ring when he finds out."  
  
"Do I want to marry into a family where endless mockery is an option?"  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her and grabbed the chain of her swing, yanking her toward him. Lizzy shrieked with laughter, begging him to stop swinging her back and forth, eyes bright. "Uncle! Uncle!" she cried, stopping only when he turned their swings toward each other and stared at her. Her laughter subsided, replaced by a tender look that seemed new.  
  
"I love you," he said, because there was nothing else to say.  
  
"You do know how to sweet-talk me, don't you?" she replied.  
  
"Always did."  
  
She smirked. "Really?"  
  
He pulled her closer by the swing chains. "You calling me a liar, sweetheart?" he asked, just before kissing her.  
  
By the time she could speak again, they'd both forgotten what the argument was about.  
  
"Are you going to want a huge wedding?" he asked, while praying she wouldn't.  
  
"I think you're asking if I want a wedding that takes a year to plan."  
  
He paused before answering. "Yes."  
  
"If Mom were here," she said, and swallowed hard. Silently Will stood and helped her up from the swing so he could pull her into his arms. "Mom would want a big wedding."  
  
"You were her only daughter," Will pointed out. "My mom would have wanted a big wedding too."  
  
Lizzy looked up at him. "Are we going to have a big wedding because our mothers would have wanted it?"  
  
"That does sound a bit crazy when you put it that way." Will took her hand and they headed back toward the house. "What if we get married now and have a big reception after six months or so?"  
  
" _Now_?" Lizzy exclaimed.  
  
"Not now, soon," he quickly corrected. "I just... We're practically living together now. Why should we put things off for a big wedding neither of us wants?"  
  
She relaxed visibly. "Okay, I may not want a production, but we need rings, I want a dress, so on and so forth."  
  
"All right, all right," he said with a laugh of his own.  
  
That night, before going to the fireworks, they did tell the Gardiners their news. The Governor hugged them both and grabbed Lizzy's hand, wanting to see the ring she didn't have yet. While Will laughed, Lizzy leaned back against him and sighed. "It was a half-planned proposal," she told the Governor. "The ring's in North Carolina."  
  
"Well, you were a good sport to play along, Lizzy," the Governor said. "I'll ask Jane if we can shuffle things around and get a trip there before the convention."  
  
Ed hugged Lizzy and shook Will's hand. "I hope we're invited to the wedding."  
  
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Will assured him. "We'd never have met if it weren't for this campaign."  
  
Governor Gardiner elbowed her husband. "See, honey, if running for President doesn't work out, we can start a matchmaking business!"  
  
Ed groaned theatrically.  
  
The Gardiners agreed to keep the matter private until Lizzy and Will had a chance to tell their families and for the ring to be retrieved. They only told a few family members outside the campaign, although Jane figured it out when she found a bridal magazine Will bought as a joke inside Lizzy's enormous bag. "What were the odds?" Lizzy asked him later. "I can't ever find what I need in that bag."  
  
"At least Jane can keep a secret," Will said, kissing her temple. "Just imagine if it had been Richard."  
  
"How did he ever get work in politics when he can't keep his mouth shut?"  
  
"Nepotism."  
  
"At least Jane knows now," Lizzy said a minute later. "She can help plan the wedding."  
  
Will chuckled. "I knew you'd find your way out of that."  
  
North Carolina wasn't in the cards in the near future, much to his disappointment. Even when Jane knew what was at hand, she couldn't make it happen until the week before the convention. It was just as well. Will and Chuck were spending almost every waking moment working on the convention speech. Lizzy was just as occupied liaising with the party on the rest of the convention. Then there was the matter of the Vice President.  
  
In the six weeks since the Fourth of July, the Governor whittled their list down to two potential nominees, both Senators. The first was John Gidding, the senior Senator from Ohio. He had run for President twenty years ago and was rumored to have considered running again this time. Will was glad he hadn't, unsure if the Governor could have won against him. Gidding knew how to get things done in Congress, but to Will's mind he was a polarizing figure, not well liked across the aisle. Gidding carved out an existence as the guy throwing grenades so the leadership could appear calm and reasonable in comparison. That could be useful in a Vice President, but Will didn't think it was what the Governor really wanted. The other complication was that Ohio was trending Republican, and they couldn't be sure of keeping Gidding's seat.  
  
The second option was Eric Lin, the junior Senator from Virginia. The son of Taiwanese immigrants, Senator Lin was about the same age as the Governor. He was a graduate of Princeton and the Maxwell School, bright, charismatic, and effective. The Governor liked him very well when she met him. They didn't agree on everything, but they had a great time talking shop. The only question was whether he was ready.  
  
Richard was getting frustrated with the Governor's indecision. "We have to introduce the guy at the convention, so we have to know who he is in time to get everything ready," he complained to Will.  
  
"Lizzy says the convention people are asking three times a day," Will replied. "Better her than us, I suspect."  
  
"Speak of the devil," Richard said, nodding to the other side of the conference room, where Lizzy was rapidly approaching.  
  
Will looked and frowned at the serious look she was giving them. In the last year he'd come to think of it as her crisis face. "Is Thierry emailing again?" he asked when she was near.  
  
She shook her head. "Howard Littleton."  
  
"Howard Littleton is emailing you?" Richard asked.  
  
"Let me finish, please."  
  
She handed over the tablet, and Will hit the play button on the video. Howard Littleton, the billionaire who had propped up Connolly's early campaign, was on one of the conservative talk shows, giving his opinion on, apparently, anything that came to mind.  
  
Richard frowned. "He's a blowhard, Lizzy, but I don't—"  
  
"Hang on, here it is," Lizzy interrupted.  
  
Through the tinny speakers, Will listened as the interviewer asked Littleton for his predictions if Governor Gardiner won. "We're always going to see a radical agenda when a Democrat is elected, but we're talking about a radical feminist agenda now. We're going to see affirmative action forced on us for women, so companies can't hire the most qualified person if there's a woman applying. Title IX beefed up until it kills off men's sports. More frivolous waste of taxpayer dollars with nonsense like the Violence Against Women Act that's up for renewal in Congress right now."  
  
Will's jaw dropped and he stared at Lizzy, no longer listening to anything else. She took the tablet back, and Will looked at his cousin, who was equally gobsmacked. "Who  _says_  that now?" Richard asked. "'Nonsense like the Violence Against Women Act'?"  
  
"I'll get started on language," Will said, regaining his ability to speak. "You'll tell the Governor, Lizzy?"  
  
She made a face. "Gee, thanks."  
  
Richard went with Lizzy while Will grabbed Chuck and they got to work. Ten minutes later, the Governor came storming out of her meeting, Lizzy and Richard in her wake. "This is crazy. Literally crazy," Governor Gardiner ranted. "Who in their right mind says that? Who actually thinks the Violence Against Women Act is frivolous nonsense?"  
  
"Ma'am, you can't say that in front of cameras," Lizzy said. "We'll get a statement out soon, but we should wait for Connolly to say something before you speak publicly."  
  
"Oh, I know," the Governor said, waving Lizzy off. "But this is the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a campaign where someone suggested that I'm raising Ed's love child."  
  
They didn't have to wait long for people to respond. Nearly the entire political establishment across the country had a statement to make. Lizzy had her staff working to keep track of them and dragooned half a dozen volunteers to help. She read the statement Will and Chuck wrote and cleared it for release, but it didn't make much of a ripple in the press storm.  
  
They were up late that night in Missouri, watching the onslaught of reaction. So far everyone condemned the statement, right or left, except for Connolly. Will imagined he was tied up with lawyers and advisors but surely it wouldn't take  _this_  long.  
  
"I don't get it," Will said to Lizzy that night. "How long does it take to distance yourself?"  
  
"From a statement? Not long," she replied. "From the millions Littleton spent..."  
  
There was no word from Connolly's camp that night, nor was there anything the next morning. That didn't explain why Lizzy was smiling when Will made his way into the St. Louis headquarters. She was watching one of the televisions in the room, holding the remote loosely and nodding along with the speaker.  
  
"First of all," Eric Lin was saying, "Mr. Littleton would do well to know that affirmative action already applies to women."  
  
A cheer went up from Lizzy's crew, and she shushed them. "One in four women is a victim of domestic abuse," the Senator continued. "A third of all female homicide victims are killed by a current or former partner. Girls who witness their mothers being beaten are more likely to become victims in their own relationships. Boys who witness their mothers' abuse are more likely to become perpetrators of it as adults.  
  
"I'm proud to be a co-sponsor of the renewal of the Violence Against Women Act. This law is not just about providing resources to women who need help and protection. It's also about trying to end an epidemic. We're never going to succeed until men and women alike stand up and say this is real, this is wrong, and this has to stop  _now_."  
  
The Governor was watching from across the room. Will recognized the serious but satisfied look on her face. "It's always more entertaining when someone brings facts to the table," she remarked, approaching them. "Lizzy, when am I next on camera?"  
  
Lizzy had a couple dozen memos in her hand. "Whenever you like, really."  
  
The Governor laughed. "Let's prep for an interview, then."  
  
Lizzy got to work selecting one of the press inquiries, and Will followed the Governor back to the small room she was using as an office. "We've got an event in Raleigh tomorrow," he said, shutting the door.  
  
"You reminding me of your little side trip?"  
  
"No, I was wondering if I should call Senator Lin's office to see if he can arrange to come down to campaign with us."  
  
The Governor quirked a brow. "You were on the fence, as I recall. What convinced you?"  
  
He couldn't quite help a small smile. "He had me at affirmative action, ma'am."  
  
She laughed lightly, and Will grinned. "Do you still have reservations?" he asked after a minute.  
  
"Charlotte thinks a woman for President and an Asian-American as running mate starts to look like we're trying too hard."  
  
"Don't tell her I said this, but Charlotte's not always right. Just usually." The Governor smiled a little in response. "I think the most important part is that you like him and you think you can work with him. The rest is just window dressing."  
  
After regarding him carefully for a minute, she nodded. "Would you arrange a phone call with Senator Lin, please?"  
  
Will did so, and stayed on the call at her request. At the end of it, he came back to Lizzy and asked, "Have you decided on an interview?"  
  
She nodded. "She'll do CNN this afternoon."  
  
"Okay. We've got an addition to the roster for tomorrow."  
  
"Who?"  
  
In response, Will handed her a slip of paper. Lizzy opened it, and her eyes widened. "Does this mean what I think it means?"  
  
"Time to order some new signs."  
  
Lizzy grinned and got to work.  
  


* * *

  
At midnight they had a huge rally in St. Louis, and from there they got right on the plane and flew to North Carolina. Lizzy only got a couple hours of sleep, knowing Will wanted to get to Pemberley before the Raleigh event. His excitement was contagious, and she drank up the sight of the small town just waking up as the sun rose.  
  
They talked along the way, sometimes about the town but more often about the election. "Now I'm starting to think there's another shoe about to drop," Lizzy finally said. "Why in the world hasn't he said anything?"  
  
"I don't know," Will replied, "but let's table that for a minute."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He didn't answer, but turned off the main road. A white plantation house stood at the end of the lane, and Lizzy gasped. "Welcome to Pemberley House, Lizzy," Will said quietly.  
  
Old, beautiful trees lined the drive, and Lizzy couldn't help looking around in wonder. Will talked about how the town grew up around the old plantation after the Civil War, but she only half listened. The house was perfectly situated on a rise, old and stately and grand. Lizzy spotted a rose bush peeking from behind the house, and she was eager to explore the gardens and groves.  
  
She said nothing as Will stopped the car and came around to open the door for her. She was too busy looking, even as they went into the house and he explained how it was used now for meetings, weddings, even occasionally proms for the local high school. She was introduced to Elaine Reynolds, the manager of the house, and Will led Lizzy to the east wing of the house, where the family lived when he was still at home.  
  
The grandeur of the house faded into something more homelike there, and Lizzy regained the power of speech eventually. "It's beautiful, Will," she said. "I'm sure everyone who comes here tells you that, but really..."  
  
He smiled softly. "No, it means a lot coming from you."  
  
He led her into one last room, which he declared his favorite. Lizzy laughed in delight when she saw it. The brilliant sunrise was pouring into the library through large windows. Comfortable-looking chairs sat in various places around the room, and a round antique table stood in the middle. Lizzy was too busy inspecting every other inch of the room to notice the tiny velvet box on the table until Will picked it up.  
  
Taking her hand, he led her to the windows and gave her the box. Her fingers were trembling a little even though she knew there was nothing to be nervous about. Inside was a ring, a ruby with half a dozen small diamonds set in delicate white gold filagree. "It was my grandmother's," he explained. "Her engagement ring went to Gigi, but this was her favorite. This was the ring my grandfather gave her when he came home from World War II."  
  
"Europe?" she asked in some distraction as he took the ring from the box.  
  
"The Pacific," he replied. "I'm sorry, I should have asked if you minded a family piece, if you wanted something new—"  
  
Lizzy cut him off with a kiss. "I love it, William. It's beautiful, and I love that it has history."  
  
"I'm glad," he said with a tender smile.  
  
They said nothing else as he slipped the ring onto her finger, no renewed proposal, no repeated declarations of love. All they needed to communicate now was quiet smiles and soft, eager kisses.  
  
Lizzy would have been happy to linger in the library forever, but the world outside would interrupt. Will's phone chirped. He reluctantly pulled away from her to look at the text. "Senator Lin and his family just got on the plane," he said. "We should head back to Raleigh."  
  
"Yes," she agreed, taking his hand and tugging him toward the door.  
  
Along the way, he lifted their joined hands, kissing her new ring. She smiled, looking around the house again as they walked. "You said the house is used for weddings, right?" she asked.  
  
"Funny you should mention that."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"I asked Mrs. Reynolds. The weekend after Christmas is free."  
  
"Christmas in Pemberley," she mused. "I think I like that idea."


	17. Chapter 17

> _I still like the conventions, but I think I'm the only one. You get to see people from all over the country who are really proud of where they're from. It's true on both sides of the aisle. Yeah, they're staged, yeah, they're a little fake, but you can glean a lot from what a campaign chooses to present. The whole tenor of the fall campaign comes out of these two weeks._
> 
> _Peter Branden, the_ New York Times _, August 21, 2014_

  
Jane threw an impromptu engagement party for Will and Lizzy the night before they arrived at the convention, or at least as impromptu as Jane ever did anything. Will was a little uncomfortable with all the attention, not to mention the time away from working on the Governor's speech, but Lizzy was happy and that was worth it to him.  
  
Mary Benet was doing workshops on tech matters during two days of the convention, so Gigi was in Philadelphia with her. Will was very glad to have his sister around, especially at the party. Once he'd made the rounds with Lizzy, he left his fiancée with Jim and Alice and found his sister lingering at the edge of the party. Gigi wasn't any more comfortable with crowds than he was. "Hey," he said, pulling her into a tight hug. "I'm glad you're here, Gigi."  
  
"I'm so happy for you, Will," she replied. "She's perfect for you."  
  
Will couldn't help smiling. "I don't deserve her."  
  
Gigi punched his arm lightly. "None of that. She makes you happy, and look at her! She's luminous." She turned to him and shook her head. "And look at you. I've never seen you this happy."  
  
Will hugged her again, his throat unexpectedly tight.  
  
Gigi was suspiciously misty-eyed when the siblings drew apart. Lizzy approached them a minute later. "You two are looking serious," she teased. "This is a party, you know."  
  
Gigi wiped her eyes and smiled. "So the wedding's at Pemberley?"  
  
Lizzy nodded, setting her arm around Will's waist, while he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Hard to argue when your fiancé owns two wedding venues. By the way, I had no idea that was where the Darcy fortune came from."  
  
Will rolled his eyes. "Why am I marrying you again?"  
  
"I've been asking myself that for weeks."  
  
Gigi choked on her champagne, trying not to laugh.  
  
A while into the party, Jim and Richard pushed Will into making a speech. "I don't know why you want to hear from me. We all know Lizzy's the talker in this relationship," he joked. People laughed, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Thank you all for being here tonight. Over the last year, you've become a lot like family, and those of you who were already family have become a lot more annoying."  
  
Richard threw a wadded cocktail napkin at him but missed by a mile. Will scooped it up and launched it back at him. "Boys!" Alice yelled, to the laughter of everyone.  
  
Will caught Lizzy's gaze and returned her soft smile. "Whether we win or lose on the fourth of November, I will always be grateful for this campaign. It has been, and continues to be, a phenomenal experience. I expected to be challenged, but I never expected..." He took a deep breath, knowing what he was about to say was hopelessly sappy. "I never expected you, Lizzy."  
  
Her smile turned tremulous, and she came up and kissed him sweetly. Then she leaned into him while he kept his arm around her. They were saved from having to say anything else when the Governor raised her glass. "To Lizzy and Will," she said, and the whole party answered.  
  
Late in the party, Will found himself with Senator Lin. Since writing remarks for him at the North Carolina rally, Will hadn't had much contact with the Governor's running mate. "Congratulations, Will," the Senator said. "Senator Fitzwilliam can't say enough good things about Lizzy."  
  
"Yeah, I think he may like her better than me," Will replied.  
  
The Senator grinned. "My parents like Rebecca better than me. I can sympathize." He took a quick drink from his glass and moved on to business. "Have you got time to take a look at my speech for tomorrow night? It's good, but it could be better."  
  
"Sure," Will agreed. "I need a break from the Governor's speech anyway."  
  
"Yeah, Lizzy suggested as much."  
  
Will made a face, which made Senator Lin laugh.  
  
That night, Lizzy crawled into bed with Will and stretched alongside him, catlike. "You drunk?" he asked.  
  
"Little bit. You?"  
  
"Pleasantly tipsy."  
  
She hummed contentedly, and Will turned over to tug her into his arms. She closed her eyes and smiled. "I suppose this is traditionally where we should get all handsy."  
  
"Strangely, my dear, I'd much rather do that while sober."  
  
"Well, that ship's sailed."  
  
Will snorted in amusement, and before long they were both asleep.  
  


* * *

  
Before Senator Lin's speech, Lizzy was on a panel for MSNBC, discussing "stuff about women" as her assistant Jeremy put it. With the first female nominee in the country's history, she supposed it was inevitable. She was just thankful the network had decided to let a woman moderate and only had women in the group.  
  
It was more fun than she expected, to be honest. Her fellow panelists were a former party chair, the Governor of Oregon, and, to her complete surprise, Caroline Bingley-Anderson. They and the host had a good time talking about various issues impacting women and girls, as well as discussing the ever-growing group of women in government. The panel was so entertaining that the network kept them on much longer than originally planned.  
  
Caroline was not quite what Lizzy expected. She was a striking woman, though not classically pretty, and she was at least as quick as Lizzy with a clever answer. There was a sharpness about her that Lizzy found somewhat distasteful. Lizzy herself was known for her quick rejoinders, but she had learned to smile and soften the sting. Caroline was not so kind.  
  
Lizzy really had no intention of mentioning Will, but during a break, Caroline admired Lizzy's ring. "That's quite lovely," Caroline said. "Left hand—engagement ring?"  
  
Lizzy nodded, with a wide, happy smile. "It's a family heirloom," she explained. "I know a ruby isn't traditional, but this ring has a lot of meaning in my fiancé's family, and his grandmother wanted his wife to wear it eventually."  
  
Lizzy expected the matter to be dropped, as Caroline didn't seem to have any further curiosity. Wanting to stretch her legs for a minute, Lizzy got up and walked behind the cameras. To her surprise, Will was coming into the box where they were filming. "Hey," she said with a curious smile, "what are you doing here?"  
  
"I brought you a present."  
  
From behind his back, he produced one of the stars-and-stripes stovepipe hats the Illinois delegation had been wearing all week. "I called in a favor," he said as she laughed.  
  
"You," she said, "are very sweet." With that, she put the hat on and went up on her toes to kiss him.  
  
The break was almost over, so Lizzy hurried back to her seat as Will left. The host laughed at the hat, but Lizzy just smiled.  
  
Caroline, however, was staring at her strangely. "Will Darcy is your fiancé?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah," Lizzy said. "You used to know him, right?"  
  
"Mics are hot," the producer called, ending the possibility of further conversation.  
  
Lizzy and Caroline watched each other for a minute as the show resumed. "We're back," the host said, "with Governor Bev Richter of Oregon, former DNC chair Andrea Wallace, Congresswoman Caroline Bingley-Anderson of New York's first district, and Lizzy Bennet, in a silly hat."  
  
The women laughed, though Caroline's response was late. "Hey," Lizzy said in mock indignation, "the great state of Illinois has the best hats this year. And we all know how important hats are at conventions."  
  
"What do you think Abraham Lincoln would have to say about his state plastering an American flag on his iconic hat?" Governor Richter asked.  
  
Lizzy grinned and pushed the hat back slightly. "I think he'd wear it. We know he liked having his picture taken, so I imagine he'd tweet some selfies."  
  
The host shuddered. "I think I'm going to have nightmares about that. Abraham Lincoln, tweeting selfies."  
  
Lizzy continued smiling cheerfully. "You're welcome."  
  


* * *

  
On Thursday night, Richard watched from backstage as his grandfather formally nominated Governor Gardiner and she walked out to accept. Will, to Richard's surprise, was actually standing there to watch the speech. "I thought you couldn't stand the stress of someone else reading your writing," he said quietly, halfway through the Governor's speech.  
  
"And miss this?" Will replied. "I'll get over it." The crowd cheered at a line, and Will elbowed Richard. "This is an incredible thing you've done."  
  
Richard shook his head. "Wasn't me. She did most of the work."  
  
"We both know you're being modest."  
  
"Boys," their grandfather said, coming up behind them. "No need to argue."  
  
"Yes, sir," they answered in unison.  
  
Before long, Will was amazingly relaxed at Richard's side. It really shouldn't have come as a shock, however. The Governor was electric tonight, her speech like poetry. "In the richest country in the world," she was saying, "we will be judged by how we treat those less fortunate. Government by the people must be government for the people.  
  
"We're not bound together by politics, or by fortune, or by race, or by creed, but by one common thread: we believe in the promise of America, whether your family has been here for centuries or you've just taken the oath of citizenship. That promise is not that we make no mistakes, but that we strive to do better.  
  
"This is a country..." Governor Gardiner trailed off as the audience, twenty thousand strong, burst into applause. She gave them a minute before continuing. "This is a country that started with only an idea, only an idea that all men are created equal. In the two centuries since those words were first set on paper, we as a people have learned that justice and equality come with a heavy responsibility. We are not free until we are  _all_  free: free from poverty, free from persecution, free from prejudice."  
  
Lizzy walked up to them then, and Richard saw Will quickly kiss her hand. "How are you two doing?" she asked.  
  
"I'm good," Richard said. "And Will hasn't asked for a paper bag yet."  
  
"For vomiting or for hyperventilating?"  
  
"Good question."  
  
Over Lizzy's head, Will glared. "I'm fine, mostly because the Governor is great."  
  
"She really is," Lizzy agreed.  
  
A few minutes later, the audience was cheering almost continually as the Governor built to the end of her speech. Lizzy turned to Richard and tightened his tie. "Hey," he said, "what do you think you're doing?"  
  
"I've got you on CNN after the speech," she said. "There's no point in wearing a tie if you're going to look like a slob."  
  
"I've been saying that for years, young lady," Richard's grandfather said.  
  
Lizzy smirked and went on her way, presumably to fix other ties. Meanwhile, Richard looked at his cousin, feeling oddly sentimental. "Thanks, by the way," he said. "I never could have done this without you. Might not have even tried."  
  
Will, to his credit, didn't go for the obvious opportunity to laugh at him. Instead, he first clapped Richard's shoulder and then hugged him. "Thanks, man."  
  
After a second, Richard said, "You're a speechwriter, Will. Can't you come up with more than that?"  
  
Will shoved him in jest, and Richard probably deserved it.  
  


* * *

  
Charlotte hadn't thought it was possible for the campaign to get busier, but after the conventions were over, there was no stopping. She was down to maybe four hours of sleep a night. It was only going to get worse from here on out, too.  
  
She wasn't sure if she envied Richard, who was living out of a hotel in Madison for a while. He was in the same time zone all the time, but on the other hand, he was in Madison, a city Charlotte had never loved. He'd be out on the road with them soon enough, so it wasn't worth a lot of thought, except when she was on hold to talk to him.  
  
"How much work could you possibly have to do that you won't drop everything for me?" she asked him on one such occasion.  
  
"You know, you had the opportunity to nag me till death do us part," he replied, a clear signal he was alone.  
  
"You never proposed, Richard. Only saw you naked a few times." That was nowhere near public knowledge. When the rumors arose they always denied it, but in the midst of the Cencal debacle, they spent a handful of nights together. They had been under enormous stress while Richard's aunt and uncle were in the process of being indicted. Charlotte didn't regret it, but when his father's campaign and the trial were over, they settled into a deep friendship and she didn't regret that either.  
  
"Anyway," Richard was saying, "to what do I owe the honor of this call?"  
  
"Daily pestering, mostly," Charlotte replied. "Lizzy thinks the Governor ought to do the Sunday shows next week."  
  
"All of them?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"Well, if Lizzy thinks she can prep for that, I won't object. But maybe Senator Lin could handle a couple of them?"  
  
"I'll talk to her. Oh, Will says you haven't gotten back to him yet on the new section of the stump speech."  
  
"Tell Will he doesn't need me to pump up his ego."  
  
"He may already be aware of that."  
  
"This is why Lizzy's perfect for him, by the way."  
  
"Will's love life notwithstanding..."  
  
"I'll get on it."  
  
"Thanks. He's been driving me crazy."  
  
After a few more bits of business, Charlotte ended the call. She picked up her tablet and stood, thinking she might get a cup of coffee before they headed to the next rally. Before she could get beyond thinking about it, a headline about Ed Gardiner caught her eye and she tapped on it. A minute later, she was calling Richard again, coffee forgotten.  
  
"Come on, Rick, pick up already," she muttered while the phone rang. There was a knock on the door, and she put the phone on speaker as she went to answer the door. "Lizzy," she said, not entirely surprised.  
  
Lizzy held up her iPad. "Have you seen this?"  
  
"Yeah, come in."  
  
Lizzy followed her in, closing the door just as Richard answered the phone. "This is like that song from that musical, Charlotte," he said, "only it's going to be 'people will figure out we slept together.'"  
  
Charlotte felt her face get red as Lizzy gaped at her. "Charlotte?" Richard said. "Did the connection die?"  
  
"No," Charlotte managed. "Which musical is that, Lizzy?"  
  
Richard swore under his breath, and Lizzy bit her lip for a second. "I guess I understand now why you didn't order Will and me to break up."  
  
"Yeah, well, it's not breaking news. Ancient history."  
  
"Not that ancient," Charlotte said, almost reflexively.  
  
"Was this before or after you kissed me, Richard?" Lizzy asked.  
  
"You kissed her?" Charlotte blurted out.  
  
"I always knew that would come back to haunt me," he muttered.  
  
"Hey!" Lizzy objected, though by then she was grinning.  
  
"Could we possibly move on to subjects that don't have to do with my love life?"  
  
"Yes," Charlotte said before Lizzy could say anything.  
  
There was another knock on the door, making both women jump. Charlotte went to answer it, and this time she  _was_  surprised. "Governor," she said, standing aside to let her in.  
  
Governor Gardiner held up her phone. "After that ridiculous story about Hannah, I set up some alerts," she said in lieu of a greeting. Then she spotted Lizzy and raised a brow. "Having a party for breakfast?"  
  
"Is there something I'm missing?" Richard said on the phone.  
  
"Ah, Richard," the Governor replied. "One of the pro-Connolly Super PACs is floating a story that Ed thinks the American electoral system is undemocratic."  
  
There was silence in the room for a minute; then Richard spoke. "Well, this is going to be a barrel of monkeys."  
  


* * *

  
Twenty minutes later, when the staff were all up and mostly ready for the day, they gathered in Margaret's suite, and she called her husband. "Ed, we've got a situation," she said when he picked up.  
  
"I'm fine, how are you?" he quipped. "Richard's here. What have I supposedly said? We didn't get that far."  
  
In the background, Margaret heard Hannah squealing. She had to ignore that. "There's a recording of you calling the American election system undemocratic."  
  
"Wait, what?" Ed said. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"We've got a source at Fox telling us it's audio," Lizzy said, stepping closer to the phone. "Won't tell us the date. I assume we'll find out when they air it."  
  
"What's the likelihood of this getting confirmed?" Ed asked, rather to Margaret's surprise.  
  
"Well, I assume it can't be confirmed," she replied.  
  
There was a telling silence on the other end. Margaret looked at her staff in trepidation and saw that reflected in their faces. Will was the first to speak. "Ed,  _do_  you think it's undemocratic?"  
  
Ed heaved a sigh. "Of course not. But I'm a political scientist. I've said plenty of things I don't necessarily believe."  
  
"Whatever we do, let's not say that," Lizzy muttered.  
  
"Speak up, Lizzy B.," Ed replied.  
  
"That's it," she suddenly said. "You said this during a class. Sir, do you podcast your lectures now?"  
  
"Yeah, I have for maybe five years now."  
  
"I'll get someone to start digging," Richard said. "Do you have any idea what class it would have been?"  
  
"Probably intro," Ed told him. "The second or third class of intro to American politics is always a discussion of whether elections in this country are democratic."  
  
"That has to be it," Lizzy put in. "I remember you saying a lot of outrageous things to get people to talk."  
  
Margaret cradled her head in her hand, wondering what else he'd said. "All right," she said. "Richard, get some volunteers at the Madison office to dig it up. We'll figure out a press strategy after, you know, coffee."  
  
Lizzy stayed behind as the others filed out. "You going to tell me you've already got a strategy?" Margaret asked.  
  
"No, no," Lizzy replied. "I'll have the details in an hour or so, probably, but I think we need to have a statement ready to go as soon as the story hits the mainstream. Something to the tune of 'Dr. Gardiner often acts as devil's advocate in order to provoke discussion among his students.'"  
  
"Work on that," Margaret told her, "but you're on the right track."  
  
Lizzy nodded and left, and Margaret went looking for halfway decent coffee.  
  
A couple hours later, she'd done her morning town hall meeting and they were on the road to Cincinatti. By then Lizzy had a plan. "We have Dr. Gardiner sit down, probably with  _60 Minutes_. He gets to talk about teaching and whatnot. They'll probably interview me too, since I took a few classes from him," she explained. "The context of that quote is almost certainly the problems of elections in America, so I say we let him talk about it. He's published on the subject. He was an acknowledged consultant the last time there was a Presidential commission on elections."  
  
"Yeah, but is that going to look like we're pushing... I don't know, a liberal agenda?" Chuck asked.  
  
Lizzy looked around for a second. "Um, we are liberals, Chuck."  
  
"You know what I mean," he said, sounding uncharacteristically irritated. "It's going to look like we're playing politics with the actual voting process."  
  
Margaret set her coffee aside. "You have a point, Chuck, but I think it's worth the risk. We've got an antiquated voting system, and the only time it gets any attention is when people are voting. It wouldn't look good if I brought it up, but Ed's both a candidate's spouse and an expert." She looked around the room. "Anyone else? Will, you're usually good for an opinion."  
  
There was snickering from all quarters as Will glared. "I figure Lizzy's the expert."  
  
"Very politic, Mr. Darcy," Margaret replied, laughing.  
  


* * *

  
A week later, Jane and Lizzy sat on the sidelines as Ed Gardiner did his interview. "Do you remember the class where he said all this crazy stuff?" Jane asked. "I just remember being really alarmed."  
  
Lizzy laughed quietly. "I remember. He was a great teacher."  
  
Jane nodded, thinking her recollection was less rose-tinted, for once. Dr. Gardiner loved to say things to get students to challenge him and themselves. Lizzy was the type of student to thrive in that environment; Jane just wanted to take notes.  
  
"I feel like I missed out on something with this podcast lecture thing," she said. "I think I would have done better in school if I'd been able to review lectures that way."  
  
"Oh, Jane. I've been thinking all week that I would have gone to class a lot less."  
  
The interviewer moved to the subject that had prompted the interview. "You've said you like to say things to challenge your students," the woman said. "You're on record saying to a class that the American system of elections is undemocratic. Did you mean it?"  
  
Ed gave a charming half-smile. "No, we have a republic founded on democratic principles," he replied. "Most kids who are taking introduction to American politics know the old  _Schoolhouse Rock_  song about how a bill becomes a law. They know about elected representatives, the electoral college. I want them to leave my class knowing the theory  _and_  the practice."  
  
"They're not the same?"  
  
"Elections in this country are administered by about eight thousand different jurisdictions—"  
  
"I'm sorry," the woman interrupted. "Did you say eight thousand?"  
  
Ed laughed. "Sounds crazy, doesn't it? We've got eight thousand jurisdictions managing ballots and machines and voter rolls. We wind up with millions of people every year who aren't on the right list, because one jurisdiction hasn't communicated with another. We've got voting machines of every kind that need to be replaced because they're old and outdated and potentially insecure. We hear every four years about people having to wait in line for six or seven hours to vote, sometimes caused by overly complicated ballots."  
  
Jane looked at Lizzy, who was nodding and occasionally mouthing along with Dr. Gardiner. She leaned over and whispered, "How weird was it?"  
  
"How weird was what?"  
  
"Prepping one of your old teachers to do an interview on his own subject."  
  
Lizzy made a face. "Very."  
  
"You're acknowledged as one of the country's experts in the problems of election administration," said the interviewer. "What's the solution to this?"  
  
"Well, first we need better attention paid to the laws we have. Some of my grad students a couple years ago did a study on compliance with various election laws and found that many of the provisions intended to aid military voters, the disabled, or voters with limited English simply were't being adhered to. Often it was out of ignorance.  
  
"We need better training at all levels of the system, and of course there's the matter of machines. The law governing election technology is about ten years old. Ten years ago, PDAs were cool. Smartphones and tablets as we know them now were practically science fiction. So we're using voting machines that are Paleolithic, and the laws in place won't let us upgrade them."  
  
"Okay," Lizzy said quietly. "Could you call Richard, Jane? Tell him we're in the clear."  
  
"Will do," Jane replied. "He can go back to losing his hair over the debates."  
  
She said it as a joke, but the look on Lizzy's face told her it wasn't far from the truth.


	18. Chapter 18

> _It's official: the first debate was a disaster. Gardiner just blew the whole campaign in one fell swoop._
> 
> _Bridget Weir, aka @TinyButMighty, October 2, 2014_

  
When Lizzy worked for Senator Fitzwilliam, she only went to Matlock Vineyard once. Even when she filled in for Juan, she never rose to the level of counselor. As the Gardiner campaign progressed, Matlock had become a haven of sorts for them, always a place where they could step back and regroup. Now it was debate camp for the final debate of the campaign, and Lizzy was not only a senior counselor in this campaign, she was welcomed as a member of the Fitzwilliam family, or soon to be.  
  
On the first morning of debate camp, Lizzy woke alone in Will's bedroom, somewhat to her surprise. It was early even by her standards, and Will wasn't known for being much of a morning person. She had more than an hour before breakfast, so she grabbed her iPad and started reading a book she'd bought on a whim on Labor Day, thinking she'd have time during the Republican convention.  
  
She'd gotten through the first chapter when the door slowly opened. "Will?" she said quietly.  
  
"Baby," he replied, "I didn't wake you, did I?"  
  
Lizzy lifted the iPad slightly in answer. "Where were you off to?"  
  
"Just... taking care of something."  
  
It wasn't like him to evade, so Lizzy set her tablet aside and turned toward him when he crawled back into bed. "Is something wrong, Will?"  
  
He shook his head, but when she touched his chest, he sighed. He clasped her hand, interlacing their fingers. "It's my mother's birthday. She's buried in Pemberley but there's a memorial here."  
  
"Oh," Lizzy said, a little startled and not sure what to say. She couldn't help but remember her mother's death in April and how shaken he had been, no doubt by memories of his parents' deaths. She brought his hand up to her lips briefly. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah," he said, obviously trying to shake it off. "Yeah, I just... needed to."  
  
"I would have gone with you, you know."  
  
He nodded. "This is the last time I go alone, probably," he replied. "I want my wife with me next time."  
  
There was no proper response to that except to kiss him. He drew her closer and for a while Lizzy tried to give him whatever comfort he needed. Before long, he was on his back, Lizzy lying mostly on top of him. "What were you reading when I came in?" he asked, while she rested her head on his chest.  
  
"Just something for fun," she replied. "A book about British parliamentary reforms in the early nineteenth century."  
  
He pushed himself up a bit to look at her. "You are so strange."  
  
Lizzy smiled. "I'll let you read it when I'm done. I'm sure you'll find it fascinating."  
  
Settling back down on the pillows, Will rubbed her back idly. "I'm having one of those moments where I feel like I'm never going to keep up with you."  
  
She felt a little overwhelmed by the sudden sentiment. "That was the first thing I really felt about you, that you were this enigma I would never figure out."  
  
Will drew her up for a tender kiss, and they lay together quietly, enjoying a moment with no demands on their time. "What are we going to do for our honeymoon?" she asked, not really surprised to realize it hadn't occurred to her before now.  
  
He hummed, indicating he hadn't thought about it either. "Right now I'm thinking Norway. The Yukon. St. Petersburg."  
  
Lizzy rubbed his chest lightly. "Honey, I haven't had coffee yet. Not sure I follow."  
  
"Somewhere cold, so there's absolutely no reason not to keep you in bed the whole time."  
  
"I really should have seen that coming."  
  
"Yep." He sighed and squeezed her hand. "We should probably get up. I saw Aunt Alice up and about earlier, and I have a strong suspicion she's going to come looking for us. She seems to have taken over planning our wedding."  
  
"What are the odds of her barging in?"  
  
"Lower than one of your aunts barging in."  
  
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. Aunt Aurélie is on another continent."  
  
"And yet I imagine she'd find a way."  
  
Lizzy sat up and held her hands out to him. "Well, it sounds like we've got a lot to do today."  
  
Will took her hands, but instead of sitting up he pulled her back down. "That we do," he said with a mischievous smile.  
  
She was only a couple minutes late to her press briefing over at the Presidential library. "Should we read anything into the venue, Lizzy?" asked Josh from ABC.  
  
"Wishful thinking, you mean?" she asked. "No, mostly it's so I can freak out again about the family I'm marrying into."  
  
The reporters chuckled. Lizzy had made a game out of seeing how long it took one of them to notice her engagement ring, and to her surprise it wasn't until after the Democratic convention was over. "You guys aren't filling me with confidence about your observational skills," she said when someone finally asked. "Although maybe I should feel comforted that you won't notice when I need to hide something."  
  
The conversation now was mostly business. The first debate, focusing on domestic issues, had not gone terribly well for the Governor. Lizzy still wasn't sure what had happened, and the reporters' near-daily questions for a week didn't help her figure it out. For some reason the Governor had forgotten all her prep and instead let herself get lost in long-winded answers, things that weren't necessarily wrong or objectionable, just far too deep in the weeds for a ninety-minute debate. Collectively, the staff in the spin room nearly had a stroke. It was the first time Lizzy had ever seen Richard come close to losing his composure. She kept Will off cameras that night and tried to keep everyone from reading the blogs for at least twelve hours.  
  
Governor Gardiner fared better in the second debate. It was a town hall-style debate where the questions were asked by members of the audience. Senator Connolly's people had tried hard to avoid this style because Connolly just wasn't very good at it. He was a great speaker and a very good debater, but he came off as stiff and detached in these kinds of highly public one-on-one interactions. The town hall was probably the phoniest of all campaign phoniness but Lizzy was happy to call it a win.  
  
This third debate would focus entirely on foreign policy. It was supposedly Connolly's strongest suit, but the Governor had been working hard. So long as she didn't start doing another impersonation of her professor husband, they'd be fine. Probably.  
  
The press questions were fairly innocuous this morning. Lizzy left the reporters to their own devices in the Fitzwilliam library and returned to the house, wondering if she could grab breakfast before the first mock debate began. She was waylaid in the kitchen by Alice Fitzwilliam, who was carrying a binder that was worryingly large. "Do you or the Senator need something, Mrs. Fitzwilliam?" Lizzy asked while she decided between muffins and bagels.  
  
"Well, first of all," Alice said, "Jim and I are Will's aunt and uncle. You both can and should call us Jim and Alice."  
  
Lizzy gave a weak laugh. "I'll try. It's hard not to think of him that way."  
  
Alice smiled. "Second," she continued, patting the binder, "I understand you've not had much time for wedding plans. I threw some things together."  
  
Lizzy cast a skeptical glance at the binder. "Some? You realize we're not really looking for a big wedding, right?"  
  
"I talked with Elaine Reynolds. She suggested vendors, and I got in touch with them. I've got proposals from the florist and caterer in Pemberley. We've got about an hour and a half before prep starts if you want to dig into this."  
  
Lizzy bit her tongue and went along.  
  
It wasn't as bad as it could have been, really, but she did feel a little pang when she imagined how her mother would have acted. It would have been less organized, certainly. All Lizzy had to do was flip through menus and eliminate the fish, which Will hated, and the chicken Kiev, which struck her as a terrible idea at a wedding. Alice had included pictures of the usual rooms used for weddings at Pemberley House so Lizzy could make an informed choice about flowers. As she looked through pictures of flower arrangements, it occurred to her that maybe they didn't want to use the usual rooms, but she'd have to ask Will.  
  
The groom's cousin came in while Lizzy was eliminating anything involving chrysanthemums. Richard took one look at the binder and said, "I should probably escape while I can. And send in Will."  
  
"Yes, you probably should," Lizzy replied.  
  
Richard came up and kissed his mother. "Mom, I hate to say this, but we need Lizzy."  
  
Alice looked at her watch. "I thought you weren't starting till ten."  
  
"Yeah, sorry. Small change of plans."  
  
Lizzy had learned never to believe Richard when he made that claim. "What's wrong?"  
  
"We just got a call from Senator Thornton."  
  
"He's not here yet?" Lizzy asked. The Senator was supposed to stand in as Connolly in the mock debates.  
  
"He's got some sort of norovirus, it sounds like."  
  
"Well, it's probably best that he's elsewhere."  
  
Richard nodded. "We were wondering if you could play Connolly for us."  
  
Taken aback, Lizzy stared. "Seriously?"  
  
"Will's notion. He says you did this kind of stuff in high school."  
  
Lizzy's jaw dropped but no sound came out for a minute. Finally she turned to Alice and said, "I'm sorry. We'll have to pick this up sometime later."  
  
Alice began gathering everything together with a smile. "Of course."  
  
Lizzy headed toward the door with Richard, but Alice stopped her. "Oh, have you got a picture of your dress?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, dresses," Lizzy said absently. "Will and I bought rings when we were in New York for the Al Smith dinner, but I haven't had time to look at dresses."  
  
Alice's eyes got comically large, and Lizzy wondered if she was going to regret this.  
  
At the other end of the house, the huge loft on the second floor had been cleared of its usual furniture in favor of folding chairs, card tables, and two podiums. Lizzy remembered the first time she walked into an impromptu round back in high school speech team and started prepping a speech—six minutes on "timing is everything"—and felt that this, somehow, was much, much worse.  
  
Will approached her and Richard as soon as they entered the loft. "Did he ask, Lizzy?" he said.  
  
"Ask what?" Richard shoved her playfully, and Lizzy smiled. "Yeah, I'll play Connolly."  
  
"Good," Will replied, sounding relieved. "I just thought you were our best shot. You've watched a thousand hours of Connolly on tape, and you've actually done this kind of thing."  
  
"How is it I'm the only ex-speech kid on this campaign?" Lizzy said in some exasperation. "I didn't think it was physically possible to have a campaign this big without more than one ex-speech kid."  
  
"Well, get over your disbelief and go join the Governor," Will said, giving her backside a little push to the podium.  
  
The Governor was watching the three of them in some amusement. "So you're our backup Connolly, Lizzy?" she said while Lizzy hunted down some notes on her iPad.  
  
"I'm afraid so, ma'am."  
  
"I just want to know why I have to be in costume and you don't."  
  
Lizzy looked at her with a smile. "You're planning to wear a cardigan and a denim skirt to the debate, ma'am?"  
  
The Governor returned the smile. "No, but I'm thinking the hooker boots should be an option."  
  
That sent Lizzy into peals of laughter. "I think I agree, ma'am."  
  
Wardrobe would be a conversation for another time. For now, Lizzy muddled her way through Republican policies, trying to keep Connolly's voice in her head along with his opinions. At the end of the mock debate, Will silently brought a chair and she sank into it gratefully. "That was exhausting," she said.  
  
"You don't see me sitting," said the Governor.  
  
"You haven't spent the last hour and a half spouting someone else's opinions," Lizzy retorted.  
  
"Oh, come on," Will said. "You know you love it."  
  
"I'm never believing another word you say, Lizzy," Charlotte teased.  
  
Lizzy rolled her eyes.  
  
"Well, getting back to work," Richard said, "we need a better answer on China's recent aggression in the South China Sea."  
  
"Passive aggression," Lizzy muttered.  
  
"That's not far from the truth," the Governor said, taking a cup of coffee brought to her by her aide.  
  
"Doesn't change that we're between a rock and a hard place here," Richard said.  
  
Will shrugged. "At least Connolly is too."  
  
"Trenchant analysis, kid," Jim replied.  
  
"That's what I'm here for."  
  
"This is a conflict older than anyone on the planet," Lizzy said. "Older than this country. I think the first war between ancient China and Japan was in the seventh century."  
  
"How could you possibly know that?" Jim asked.  
  
"No idea. I'm probably making it up."  
  
Laughing, the Governor set aside her coffee gingerly. "Warn me before you say something funny, Lizzy."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
They went over the tape of the session, refining answers and trying to anticipate how Connolly would challenge the Governor in rebuttal. Then after lunch, they did two more mock debates, each followed by the same kind of review. By supper, Lizzy's head was starting to hurt.  
  
At the end of dinner, however, Alice grabbed Lizzy by the arm and took her to the master bedroom. Lizzy was startled to see three clothing racks, each with half a dozen long white garment bags hanging from it. "Alice, you didn't," she said, hoping she was wrong.  
  
"You don't have to pick anything," Alice said, holding her hands up. "I just got a bunch of different styles here so you can start narrowing down."  
  
To complete Lizzy's mortification, the Governor came in then with Jane and Charlotte and several of the other women in the campaign, along with Senator Lin's wife Rebecca. "Alice,  _how_  did you do this?" Lizzy asked while the others started unpacking dresses.  
  
"I called someone," she said vaguely, leaving Lizzy to wonder when her life had become a sitcom. Severely outnumbered as she was, she went along and started trying gowns on. She didn't want to know how Alice knew her size.  
  
Halfway through the collection, Lizzy was fairly sure she wasn't going to find anything she liked in this group, and she wondered what Alice would do. She wasn't interested in a puffy princess gown, and there seemed to be no other option.  
  
She was wearing the last gown, a ruffled and lace-bedecked bonanza of silk that weighed a ton, when there was a knock on the doorjamb and Will walked in. He stopped short at the sight of Lizzy in a wedding gown in the middle of the room. "Lizzy," he breathed, eyes only for her as she self-consciously smoothed the skirt.  
  
"Well, since you're here," she said, "what do you think?"  
  
He took a few steps into the room. "You look ridiculous."  
  
"Thank you," she blurted out, shoulders slouching.  
  
Will burst out laughing, along with half the room. Catching Alice's weak smile, Lizzy reached to touch her arm. "It's a beautiful dress, really," she said. "It's just a lot of dress."  
  
"It's your wedding," Alice said, reminding Lizzy of her mother. "It should be special."  
  
"I know, and it will be," Lizzy replied, with a bright smile. "I really can't thank you enough for helping us with this, especially since neither of us have a mother around to do it."  
  
Will's hand touched hers, and Lizzy bit her lip, suddenly wanting to cry. "You okay?" he said quietly.  
  
"Of course," Lizzy replied, after swallowing hard. "I should probably change, though."  
  
"Yeah, I'm thinking that particular gown won't be too comfortable for mock debate number four," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "I was sent up here to tell you we're starting in half an hour."  
  
"It'll take me that long to get the buttons on this dress unfastened," Lizzy said, mostly to Alice, but Will heard.  
  
"I can help," he said, leaning to speak softly in her ear.  
  
Lizzy elbowed him for that.  
  
Four hours later, the dresses were packed away, the last mock debate was over, and so was the breakdown after it. Lizzy found Alice and took the binder of wedding stuff from her, promising to get Will's opinions by morning. He was with the speechwriters, and when he came to the bedroom half an hour later, Lizzy was sitting on the bed, flipping through the pages without really looking at them, her thoughts too occupied by what came after the wedding. "Lizzy?" he said. "Are you okay?"  
  
While he came and sat with her on the bed, she nodded. Then she shook her head. "I've been thinking."  
  
"I can tell." He punctuated his words with a kiss just below her ear. When she didn't say anything, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing her collarbone. "Lizzy?"  
  
"This is completely crazy," she said, not sure how to express herself. "We've been living out of suitcases for more than a year. We've never had to agree on who washes the dishes or takes out the trash or cleans up the washroom. We've never talked about who pays the bills and balances the checkbook."  
  
"People still have checkbooks?" he said, with the tiniest hint of a smile.  
  
"Will." He took her hand and kissed her fingertips by way of apology. "My mom told stories about planning her wedding. Both weddings, really. It struck me today, we're planning a wedding and not really talking much about the life that happens after."  
  
He nodded soberly. "I know this hasn't been normal. Then again, you're not normal." She frowned at him and he smiled. "You, Elizabeth Bennet, are extraordinary, the most extraordinary woman I've had the privilege to know. You weren't made for normal. I meant it this morning. Sometimes I feel like I'll never keep up with you. You are brilliant and charming and talented, and you are so beautiful." His hands fell away from her and he took a deep, steadying breath. "We're going to have fights, Lizzy. We already have fights. I actually think it's good that you're worried. It means you know what's possible and you don't want it to happen to us. But neither one of us has been married before. Some of this we're just going to have to tackle when it comes. I've been in love with you a long time—"  
  
"When?" she asked, suddenly curious.  
  
His exp ****ression turned shy, even a little embarrassed. "We were in Iowa—remember that storm?—and we had the Gardiner kids with us. I held your hand that day, and it was the first time I thought about you like that. The first time I wanted you like that."  
  
She nodded, biting her lip. She knew before he asked that he would want reciprocation. He smiled when he asked the question, and for a second she hated what her answer had to be. "I don't really know when it was," she told him, resolved to be honest. "It took me a long time to figure it out. I think Mom may have figured it out before I did. She basically told me that we hurt deeply when we feel deeply."  
  
"Lizzy, I am so—"  
  
"Don't," she said, frantically covering his mouth with her fingers. "Please, please don't say you're sorry. Yes, it hurt, but who knows how long it would have taken me to realize what was in front of my face otherwise? You deserved better than I had given you."  
  
Will touched her cheek. "I wish I'd had a chance to get to know your mother."  
  
"So do I," she said. She bit her lip again as it trembled. "I miss her."  
  
When she started crying, Will pulled her close, murmuring words of love and comfort as she buried her face against his shoulder. She hadn't cried like this in months, and there was something cathartic in it. And it was no wonder, really. Thoughts of the wedding would always remind her that her mother would not be there.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, once her crying ebbed. "It's your mother's birthday and here I am—"  
  
"Darlin', don't," Will interrupted. "You loved your mother as much as I loved mine. Don't ever think you don't have the right to grieve her whenever and wherever you need to."  
  
She nodded and rested in his arms for a while. There was still a lot they hadn't talked about, but when she moved away, Will didn't press her for more. Instead, he gestured to the binder laying a little distance away on the bed. "I assume my aunt is responsible for that," he remarked.  
  
"She's trying to help. She knows we've only got a couple months."  
  
"Is my opinion requested?"  
  
"Required, I'd say."  
  
He agreed with her on the menu and professed no opinion on the flowers, but Lizzy saw that he kept drifting back to an arrangement of deep red amaryllis with white narcissus. It would be perfect for a wedding at Christmas.  
  
She closed the binder and they got ready for bed. As he was turning the covers back, he said casually, "I suppose I ought to make a confession."  
  
"What's that?" she asked just before blowing her nose.  
  
"Today during the mock debates, listening to you pretend to be a Republican?" he said. "Really unattractive."  
  
He looked surprised when she almost doubled over laughing.  
  
A while later, the lights were out and Lizzy was trying to get some sleep. For all that she was exhausted, the day had been so full that her mind wasn't slowing down yet. Finally she touched Will's shoulder and said, "Are you awake?"  
  
"Yeah." He sounded as tired as she felt.  
  
"Ten days," she mused. "Ten days and we know if this crazy idea was worth it."  
  
"It was," he replied without pause. "It gave me you."


	19. Chapter 19

> _Here we go. A billion dollars spent for this day. The math all says it's Governor Gardiner, but I was never good with math._
> 
> _David Kerr, the_ New York Times _, November 4, 2014_

  
_3:45 AM_  
  
Richard couldn't sleep. He never could the night before an election, but this had risen to new heights. He'd cut out caffeine a week ago and he even considered pharmaceutical assistance.  
  
Not that there was any point to it now. An hour ago he gave up trying to sleep entirely, getting up to read the tea leaves. For weeks the polls had shown little movement, and while it was nice, considering that Governor Gardiner was ahead in those polls, Richard wasn't comfortable with skirting the margin of error for so long.  
  
Will kept telling him not to sweat the national numbers, and he was right. Only mandates were won and lost on the popular vote. The electoral college, that relic of the eighteenth century, was what determined the Presidential election. At the beginning of the summer, Richard and Charlotte named eight states where it would be decided: Pennsylvania, Ohio, Virginia, North Carolina, Florida, Iowa, Missouri, and Nevada.  
  
Some states were perennially on the fence; others were shifting from red to blue because of changing demographics. Either way, they had concentrated all their firepower on those eight states. Richard felt a little guilty about it, if he was honest. Those states only represented about twenty percent of the population. When they went somewhere else, it was to ask for money, by and large.  
  
By the end of the day, more than a billion and a half dollars would be spent by the two Presidential campaigns. That didn't count the PACs and Super PACs, nor any of the down-ticket races. A massive amount of money had hardly shifted the polls at all since May, leaving Richard to wonder if anything could rock the boat anymore.  
  
Before he could think about getting into the mini fridge, there was a knock on his door. That rap was distinctive and familiar, and he knew it was Charlotte before he opened it.  
  
"Can't sleep either?" he asked.  
  
"No. I was thinking about the night before your dad was reelected." Richard's eyebrows shot up but he remained silent. "You spent the night with me."  
  
"I remember," he replied, leaning against the wall next to the door. "Mom flipped out the next morning when I wasn't home. It was like being in high school again."  
  
Charlotte reached up and touched his cheek, and Richard felt that spark from years ago, that feeling he thought had long since faded where she was concerned. She was one of his best friends, maybe  _the_  best. As he leaned in to kiss her, he wondered why he'd ever stopped thinking of her this way.  
  


* * *

  
_5:45 AM_  
  
"Polls have only been open for what, forty-five minutes in some states?" Lizzy said, laughing a little at the question posted by a CNN anchor. "It's a little early to begin prognosticating. I've only had one cup of coffee today."  
  
The two hosts laughed. "Seriously, though, Lizzy," one of them said, "how's the general mood in Camp Gardiner?"  
  
"Besides under-caffeinated?" she replied, making them laugh again. "We're optimistic, Ana. We've seen huge turnout—unprecedented, really—in early voting, and our get-out-the-vote operation is as sophisticated as any I've ever seen. People have got a real choice to make here. Senator Connolly is an honorable man, but the American people are looking for someone with a proven record for tackling the tough issues instead of skirting them, and reaching out to everyone regardless of party. In this race, that person is Governor Gardiner."  
  
"Speaking to us from the Gardiner campaign headquarters in Madison, Wisconsin, campaign spokeswoman Elizabeth Bennet," said the other anchor. "Thanks for joining us, Lizzy."  
  
"Thank you, John."  
  
Will was waiting behind the camera during the interview. When she was done, he came around and pulled her up by the hand. "'Senator Connolly is an honorable man'?" he said, barely containing a smile.  
  
Lizzy herself was grinning. "I suppose  _Julius Caesar_  was a bit much."  
  
"Just resist the urge to move on to  _Coriolanus_ , please."  
  
"Yeah, good tip."  
  
By then he had led Lizzy far from the cameras, to the war room exit. "Are we going somewhere specific?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Please tell me we're not going upstairs," she said lowly. "Any other day I might applaud the initiative, but today I have to be on camera for twelve hours, basically."  
  
"No," he replied. "I'm taking you out for breakfast, and then we're going to meet the Gardiners when they go vote."  
  
Lizzy waited to say more until they were in the privacy of the elevator. While the doors shut, she waited with her hands neatly behind her back. "Is this a date?"  
  
"Our first, as it happens."  
  
He shot her a look, as though daring her to challenge him or laugh. With a smirk, Lizzy took hold of his tie, just below its perfect Hanover knot, and kissed him thoroughly.  
  
When the elevator doors opened again, Lizzy's hands were primly folded again. By the time they were out of the hotel, Will had given up trying to fix that Hanover knot entirely.  
  


* * *

  
_7:45 AM_  
  
The Governor's mansion in Wisconsin was modeled after the White House. On Election Day, this fact struck Margaret Gardiner as it never quite had before.  
  
Ed could still read her mind. When he came out of the mansion with the kids, he was smiling and shaking his head. "You really haven't been here much in the last eighteen months," he said, kissing her cheek.  
  
"It's just hit me again," Margaret replied, taking her son's hand. "Jack-Jack, you ready for school today?"  
  
Jack frowned at her. "I thought you were going to be President today."  
  
She looked up at her husband and laughed. "And you call yourself a political science professor."  
  
"Jack, we talked about this," Ed said, picking Hannah up. "Today's when everyone votes and we find out if Mom won."  
  
"Oh," Jack said. Then he looked up at both of them. "Why would people not vote for Mom?"  
  
Ed and Margaret both smiled and got the kids in the car.  
  
The Secret Service agents drove them to their polling place, where Lizzy and Will were waiting with at least fifty reporters and eight or ten cameras. Jack was used to the press by now and Hannah was resigned to them, so it was just a matter of getting them to behave on what might or might not be their last public appearance on the national stage.  
  
All four of them waved to the press and Margaret answered a few of the shouted questions as they made their way to the school auditorium. Jack came with her to cast her vote; Ed was done first because Hannah didn't ask questions about everything. By the time Margaret was done, Ed was practically doing stand-up with the waiting press corps. She joined him, giving more serious answers but not by much. Then, when they walked away, Ed said out of the blue, "Oh, Lizzy, Will, we got your wedding invitation yesterday. Well, found it yesterday."  
  
"Yeah?" Lizzy said. "What does it look like?"  
  
Amused, Margaret turned and said, "You mean you haven't seen it?"  
  
"Nope. Will's cousin Rachel took care of it."  
  
"That's taking this 'too busy' thing to new heights, Lizzy."  
  
Lizzy shrugged. "I got the right guy. That's the only part I'm going to care about at the end of the day."  
  
She and Will moved off to a different car, letting Ed and Margaret get the kids secured in the back of the limousine. When they were seated themselves, Margaret pulled Ed close for a kiss. "You nervous?" he asked, clasping her hand.  
  
"Yeah, but that's not what that was for." At his questioning look, she said, "I got the right guy too."  
  


* * *

  
_9:45 AM_  
  
Will was working through his sixth revision of the Governor's acceptance speech when Richard leaned over the screen of the laptop, pushing it down slightly. "Want to go to a movie?" he said.  
  
Will looked up at his cousin incredulously. "Have you hit your head?"  
  
"This is really weird," Richard went on. "There's nothing for me to do."  
  
For a minute Will thought about pointing out that this meant Richard had built this staff from the ground up and turned it into a well-oiled machine, but where was the fun in that? "You could always see if Charlotte's amenable to being dragged into a closet somewhere."  
  
To Will's utter shock, Richard looked suddenly alarmed. "What have you heard? Did Lizzy tell you something?"  
  
Realizing what had just happened, Will slowly grinned. "Lizzy didn't tell me anything, but I never did believe those categorical denials."  
  
"You have  _got_  to be kidding me."  
  
"You always did talk too much."  
  
Richard closed the laptop. "Movie. Now."  
  
Will got up and followed his cousin. "Can we braid each other's hair and talk about our girlfriends after?"  
  
"Sure, if after that I get to murder you and hide your body in the woods."  
  
"Deal."  
  


* * *

  
_11:45 AM_  
  
"Lizzy? There's a thunderstorm in Indiana."  
  
"There's a thunderstorm in Indiana!?"  
  
"Why is this shocking?"  
  
"It's November, Jane!  Election Day!"  
  
"I'm also not sure this is a matter of grave concern for us. Doesn't Indiana always go Republican?"  
  
"Yeah, but they're also the first state to report, usually, and it'd be nice if they couldn't announce right when the polls close."  
  
"Well, we've also got unseasonably warm weather in Florida."  
  
"We should get volunteers out there to distribute water bottles."  
  
"Make the call, then. Otherwise, there's snow in Maine, but they know what they're doing, right?"  
  
"Call someone to, I don't know, get salt on the walkways up to polling places."  
  
"You're just full of ideas, aren't you?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"I'll get a volunteer to get us a new forecast model in half an hour."  
  
"You've got a time machine?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Weather models update every twelve hours. Hey, while you're in the future checking the weather, can you see if we won?"  
  


* * *

  
_1:45 PM_  
  
"I can't believe you went to a movie," Lizzy said, her face still pressed against the curve of Will's neck.  
  
"I can't believe you came up here with me in the middle of Election Day," he replied, leaning back against the headboard.  
  
She glanced up at his satisfied look and patted his cheek. "I'm shockingly weak, as it turns out."  
  
As she got up and started putting herself to rights again, Will reached for his phone. "For the record, we went to a movie because he was going to start deconstructing computers for time machine components if he didn't find something to do."  
  
That gave her pause, only because now time machines had come up in her conversations twice today. "What did you see?"  
  
He waved her off. "Something awful. I'm not sure even you could have saved it by making fun of it."  
  
"Well, I'm glad you weren't off having fun, then." While she wrestled one of her knee-high boots back on, she nodded to his phone. "What are you reading?"  
  
"Hal Preston's latest."  
  
She made a face at him. "It's cute, you know, and flattering that you can start reading poll analysis three minutes after—"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," he said. "Tomorrow I'll fall asleep if it'll make you feel any better."  
  
Lizzy smacked him with the leg of her other boot before pulling it on. "Anything interesting?"  
  
"He gives us a 90% chance of winning," he replied, "which I'll admit doesn't make sense to me. The race feels tighter than that."  
  
"We've been seeing really consistent numbers for weeks. It's all within the margins, but it would be different if we were seeing the occasional Connolly win in the polls. We haven't seen that since the first debate, and even that was slim."  
  
Will raised a brow. "When did you become an expert?"  
  
"Last night," she admitted. "You were dead to the world and I couldn't sleep."  
  
"So you were reading Hal Preston in the middle of the night?"  
  
"No, I talked to Thierry. He says hi, by the way."  
  
"I'm not sure if that's better or worse than you reading Hal Preston while you're in bed with me."  
  


* * *

  
_3:45 PM_  
  
Charlotte found Lizzy sitting in the corridor with an iPad sometime in the afternoon. She couldn't tell when because her watch was in Richard's room and she hadn't eaten lunch yet. "Lizzy?" she said, wondering if there was time for food between now and whenever things were done. "Is something wrong?"  
  
She shook her head. "Will wanted me to review the speeches for tonight. Too loud in there."  
  
"They're still working on the speeches?"  
  
"Apparently Chuck wanted to add 'is you is or is you ain't my constituency?' to the victory speech." When Charlotte frowned, Lizzy looked scandalized. "You've never seen  _O Brother, Where Art Thou_? We have to fix this."  
  
"Not right now, we don't."  
  
Charlotte looked down and saw the Governor's face on the screen in Lizzy's hands. "That doesn't look like the speeches."  
  
"No, Will's got nearly the entire archive of the Governor's on-camera appearances on here," Lizzy explained. "I found the first time she appeared on national news. She was still mayor of Milwaukee."  
  
"Wow," Charlotte replied. "What's she talking about?"  
  
"Urban renewal. You can already see how incredibly intelligent and talented she is."  
  
"Strange to think how far we've come. Two years ago, if you'd told me the Governor would be here right now, I'd have laughed at you."  
  
"Were you there when Richard talked her into running?"  
  
Charlotte settled down on the floor next to her. "I was in some of the meetings. It took her a while to come around to the idea. She had to talk to Ed, among other things."  
  
"Oh, to have been a fly on that wall."  
  
"I know. I don't think Ed was a fan for a while."  
  
"It's hard for any candidate's spouse. I can't imagine being in that position."  
  
"You don't think you will be someday?"  
  
Lizzy shook her head. "Will got his politics from his mother, but he's not like her. He wouldn't run for office."  
  
"What about you?" Charlotte asked.  
  
The question seemed to catch Lizzy entirely off-guard. "I haven't really thought about it, at least not since high school."  
  
Something in her wording made Charlotte suspicious. "You were totally going to be the first female President, weren't you?"  
  
Lizzy sighed. "Don't tell the Governor."  
  


* * *

  
_5:45 PM_  
  
"Does anyone else find it unsettling that they called Kentucky before the polls actually closed in the western part of the state?" Jane asked the war room.  
  
"If Kentucky had elected a Democrat in the last fifty years, that would be a problem," Will remarked, coming up behind her. "Really, we should just be happy the talking heads are still hyperventilating that they can't call Indiana yet."  
  
"Yeah, that's pretty crazy." She looked up at Will over her shoulder. "So do you know why Richard has turned into a madman over at the map?"  
  
"The exit polls are... contradictory. We've got people saying the Governor's gender has no bearing on how they voted but they're still voting for Connolly. And some weirdness in Florida."  
  
"When is there not weirdness in Florida?"  
  
Will chuckled.  
  
Jane moved to Richard's side and studied the map for a minute. It didn't look different than it did in the summer, to be honest: the same red states, blue states, and toss-ups. Taking up a dry erase marker and the last state-by-state polls they'd commissioned, she began writing in the data from those toss-up states.

>   
>  _Virginia: +4_  
>  _Florida: +2_  
>  _North Carolina: -2_  
>  _Pennsylvania: +2_  
>  _Ohio: +3_  
>  _Missouri: -2_  
>  _New Mexico: +3_  
>  _Nevada: +1_

  
The blue states added up to 241 electoral votes, the red to 181. This left 116 electoral votes up for grabs. After a few minutes, Jane said, "There's no way for Connolly to win without Florida."  
  
Richard blew out a long breath. "Yes. Because Florida's never been a problem child."  
  
Jane smiled. "My point was, not all roads lead through Disney World for us."  
  
"Good. The teacups make me hurl." Richard tapped some numbers with the eraser end of a pencil. "We win Florida and it's game over," he said. "That gives us 270 on the nose. Connolly has to win Florida." Jane resisted the urge to point out that she'd just said that. He was clearly thinking aloud. "If we lose Florida, our easiest route is Pennsylvania and Ohio, probably. Connolly's easiest is Pennsylvania, Ohio, North Carolina... Missouri."  
  
"So let's say we lose Florida and Pennsylvania," Jane prompted.  
  
Richard made a disgruntled noise, one she was more used to hearing from Will. "That puts Connolly at 230. We have to win Ohio, Missouri.... Oh no. If we only win Ohio and Missouri out of this batch, that'd give us a tie." He looked down at his phone. "Hal Preston gives that a five percent chance."  
  
Somehow Jane didn't find that very comforting.  
  


* * *

  
_7:45 PM_  
  
"This is turning out to be a great evening thus far for Governor Gardiner..." an anchor on television said as Lizzy finally escaped the women's restroom and the line preceding it.  
  
"Keep saying that," Will muttered to the television.  
  
He jumped slightly when Lizzy touched his arm. "You know they can't hear you, right?"  
  
"I never really thought of myself as superstitious," he said, covering her hand with his own. "But honestly, people hear the Governor's doing great and they're going to stay home. It's not like we want to pick up seats in the House or win back the Senate, you know?"  
  
"You're done writing tonight, yes?"  
  
"Thank God," he said, evidently meaning that in its most literal terms.  
  
"Good. I'm pretty sure you've started leaving words out of things, or your brain has become completely sarcasm-addled."  
  
He turned and kissed her temple, then whispered, "I'm going crazy."  
  
Lizzy laughed and rubbed his arm affectionately.  
  
Despite Will's paranoia, the evening  _was_  going well. As of fifteen minutes ago, the polls were closed in twenty-eight states. They had swept the northeast and mid-Atlantic states. As expected, Connolly had the South locked up, with the exception of Virginia and North Carolina. Lizzy couldn't imagine how tense things were at Connolly's headquarters with that uncertainty. There would be noise about Senator Lin being the only reason Virginia was close, but the state was changing. So was North Carolina.  
  
"So how unhappy will Justice Darcy be if North Carolina—his home state!—votes for a Democrat?" Lizzy asked, hoping to cheer Will up a bit.  
  
He chuckled. "Furious. He'll blame me, of course."  
  
"Oh, of course." She paused. "He wrote me a letter, you know."  
  
Will froze, then looked at her slowly. "Are you serious?"  
  
Lizzy nodded. "An actual letter. In cursive and everything."  
  
To her surprise, he cracked up. "The man's got terrible arthritis, Lizzy. He can't do much more than sign his name. Best not to go for so many details."  
  
She pouted, but there was no time for response. Staffers were starting to flock to the televisions, a sign that something was about to happen. Lizzy looked at the clock. Nearly eight o'clock, nine on the east coast. They released each other and moved toward Jane, Chuck, and Richard. "We have twelve more states closing their polls at the top of the hour," one of the PBS anchors was saying. "As a reminder, as the race currently stands, Georgia Senator Mike Connolly has 126 electoral votes and Wisconsin Governor Margaret Gardiner has 83. Six states' polls have closed but remain too close to call, totaling another 105 electoral votes."  
  
"And as we wait for those twelve states to report their results, we can now project that the state of Pennsylvania, with twenty electoral votes, will go to Governor Gardiner."  
  
Whatever else the anchors had to say was drowned out by the instant cheering in the war room. The Gardiners were soon out of the attached bedroom, all smiles. "There went the tie!" the Governor said. "Richard and Ed were worried."  
  
Lizzy looked between the two men. "There's only one possible tie?"  
  
"I didn't think of that," Richard said, looking slightly panicked.  
  
"You are a wicked woman, Lizzy," the Governor remarked while Will, Richard, and Ed moved over to the map board.  
  
"Oh, I know."  
  


* * *

  
_9:45 PM_  
  
Eventually Will decided that Lizzy knew there were no other possible ties and later she'd have to be punished, but for now he was entirely too satisfied with the evening to mind.  
  
Half an hour ago, Florida had been called. The final numbers were still coming in, but it looked like they were going to carry the state by four points. Connolly needed nearly every toss-up state to break to him, and Gardiner had carried all of them but Missouri. The race was over, and Connolly had already called to concede.  
  
Senator Lin had made a point of shaking Will's hand when Virginia and North Carolina were called within minutes of each other. "Lyndon Johnson said we'd lose the South for a generation," the Senator said, grinning madly. "Looks like he was just a little optimistic."  
  
Now they were gathered backstage of the hotel ballroom. The staff was struggling to contain the ecstatic energy of the night; even Will was feeling the rush of adrenaline. Lizzy moved to go onstage, but the Governor stopped her. "Just a minute," she said. "I just want to thank you all for the incredible work you've done on this campaign. A candidate is only as good as her staff, and you have been extraordinary."  
  
Will felt a hand clasp his shoulder, and he knew it was his cousin. Together they watched Lizzy walk out. Hundreds of people were in the ballroom, and the cheering was raucous as she approached the podium. Will had never even imagined a moment of prescience, but somehow he knew he would see the day when Lizzy would be cheered like that again, as the candidate.  
  
"You okay, man?" Richard asked.  
  
"Yeah, I just got..."  
  
Richard shook him slightly. "You've got the rest of your life to be awed by her, remember? Don't get too far ahead of yourself!"  
  
Lizzy was quieting the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "ladies and gentlemen, it's been a good day." She grinned as the crowd cheered again. "It is an honor and my great privilege to introduce the first woman ever elected to this office, our next President of the United States, Margaret Gardiner!"  
  
This was the moment Will would remember first whenever someone asked him about this campaign in years to come: Richard's hand still on his shoulder, the Governor—President-Elect—kissing Lizzy's cheek as they passed each other on the stage, the crowd growing impossibly louder. As soon as she was backstage, Lizzy threw her arms around Will's neck and kissed him soundly. He kept his arms around her waist even when she turned to watch the President-Elect speak.  
  
"Thank you," she was saying. "Thank you all, for your tireless efforts. Thank you to my good friend Jim Fitzwilliam for his unwavering support, to his son Richard Fitzwilliam and nephew Will Darcy, for talking me into this to begin with." The audience applauded and laughed, and Margaret smiled. "Thank you to Senator Lin, our next Vice President, for his boundless energy and superb skill on the campaign trail. Thank you to the staff and the legion of volunteers who poured days and weeks and months of their lives into this election. And thank you most of all to my husband, Ed, who over the course of this campaign has proven himself to be a better man than I knew, when he was already the best man I'd ever known."  
  
The audience cheered again, and Will looked to see Ed seem almost abashed by the praise. Onstage, the President-Elect turned to the matter at hand. "A few minutes ago, Senator Connolly called to offer his congratulations. I thanked him, and told him it was an honor to stand with him in this race and have my name with his on the ballot. I could not imagine a more honorable opponent, and he made this race better for his statesmanship and his years of service to his country.  
  
"It's easy to see this victory tonight as a job well done, but there's a long road ahead of us. We have too many children living in poverty, too many schools crumbling, too many streets beset by violence. All through this campaign I have met hardworking Americans who only want to provide for their families. They're not asking for a handout; they're asking for peace and security. But nothing in the road ahead is beyond our reach if we have the desire to make this nation great for all its people."  
  
Lizzy wriggled free from Will's arms and quietly called attention from the staff. They still had press appearances to make before joining the victory party, after all. But Will stood and watched the rest of the speech, amazed by what they had accomplished.  
  
Ed approached him then, carrying Hannah in her glittery dress while Jack followed in his little suit. "I laughed when she told me Richard had come to her with this idea," Ed said casually. "I've told classes for at least fifteen years that any day now, the country would elect someone who didn't look like all the Presidents of the past. Somehow it just never occurred to me it might be my wife." Will smiled a little, and Ed gave him a knowing look. "I just hope you're not caught off-guard when Richard comes to your wife with a crazy idea."  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't worry," Will replied. "I've already had those crazy ideas myself."


	20. Chapter 20

> _I keep pinching myself. I can't quite believe we elected a woman as President of the United States yesterday. Only took ninety-four years since women got the right to vote._
> 
> _I honestly wasn't sure I'd live to see the day._
> 
> _Senator Regina Keller, op-ed for the_ Washington Post _, November 5, 2014_

  
The morning after the election, the Governor flew to Washington for a meeting with the President at the White House. Some of the staff went with her, but many scattered to the four winds to see family. Will drove with Lizzy to Chicago to see her stepfather and brothers, but stayed only a few hours. Gigi had been in Madison with Mary Benet and now had a week's vacation. She joined him at the airport in Chicago and together they flew to San Francisco. Lizzy flew to California the next day, but to Los Angeles, having decided to sell her house there. They met up again in Pemberley. Will brought his sister there, and the three of them finalized all the wedding details they could.  
  
Gigi went back to California the next day, and Lizzy and Will went to Washington. "Oh, I have a box of RSVPs my aunt foisted on me," Will told her as they drove through Virginia.  
  
"I know. She emailed me a spreadsheet." Lizzy sighed. "I kind of wish she'd just take care of it, but I've done little enough for this wedding as it is."  
  
"Aunt Alice wanted to know if you've got a dress yet."  
  
"Yeah, I've been ignoring those emails."  
  
Will laughed. "Why don't you let me handle the guests, then? I'm imagining you've got enough on your plate without it, and that might be a nice diversion for the inaugural."  
  
"Really? I was kind of hoping your place would be a wedding-plan-free zone."  
  
That startled him a little. "What do you mean, my place?"  
  
Lizzy shifted and fiddled with her seatbelt. "I suppose a locked car is as good a place as any to tell you this," she said. "I want to stay with Jane until the wedding."  
  
For a second Will wanted to pull over to the shoulder, but he stomped down that impulse. "Why would you do that?"  
  
"Well, Jane sublet her apartment in Boston, but there was some misunderstanding about dates. The girl subletting moved out at the end of October, but Jane's lease isn't up till the end of the year," Lizzy explained. "They signed an agreement with the dates and everything, but you know how Jane is. She's too softhearted to demand the girl give her the two months' rent."  
  
"So you're what, helping out with Jane's rent in Washington?" he asked, reasonably sure they'd both balk if he offered to give Jane the money himself.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So why were you so nervous about this?"  
  
"Please don't take this the wrong way. I think we both need to decompress a little before we get married." Will inhaled sharply, fingers flexing around the steering wheel, but he forced himself to let her talk. "We've been living on top of each other for more than a year now. We're going to be together at work and together at home. I think it'd be good for both of us if we take a few weeks to get used to taking the trash out and washing the sheets again—not to mention what's happening at work—before we get married. But I should have brought this up before. I guess that's really why I was nervous about it."  
  
They drove perhaps a mile down the road before Will could think of anything to say. "How long have you felt this way?"  
  
"I started thinking about it when I was in L.A. without you," she admitted. "Don't get me wrong, I missed you. I missed you like crazy. But Jane called me with her problem and it just seemed like a good idea. Besides, I really do want to be able to get away from wedding nonsense now and then."  
  
That at least made him smile. "Then I'll try to keep the guest list out of the way when you come over to the house."  
  
"The house?" She sounded surprised.  
  
"Yeah, I own a house with Richard and my uncle," he said, wondering how this hadn't come up before. "It's a triplex. We'll have our own space, don't worry." He cast a quick glance at her and saw a skeptical exp ****ression looking back at him. "What?"  
  
"Well, first of all, I'm wondering how many more houses you own," she said dryly. "Second, you don't think it's going to be a little weird for us as newlyweds living with Richard and the Senator?"  
  
"To your second, there are locks on the doors," he replied. "To your first, I think that's it."  
  
"You think?" she asked, sounding amused.  
  
"I've been busy lately. I haven't had time to count."  
  
She laughed merrily, and he had to smile.  
  


* * *

  
When Lizzy came to the transition office the next morning, she found her assistant Jeremy relieved to see her. "There's a call sheet six miles long," he said. "They don't believe me when I say we're not talking Cabinet posts."  
  
"Are you being too nice on the phone?" she asked, taking the stack Jeremy was desperately trying to give her.  
  
"Probably. I don't know how you tell them no without making them hate you."  
  
Lizzy wasn't sure she knew either, but she got to work anyway.  
  
When she wasn't stonewalling the press, she was in meetings about Cabinet secretaries and hiring her own staff. Sometimes, though, she was the bearer of bad tidings. "Well, the FBI background checks for Cabinet appointments have started," she said at the top of one morning staff meeting. "I've gotten thirty calls from reporters this morning about Sheridan and Brice. I imagine it'll be Esposito and DeLauder by lunchtime." These leaks was a perennial problem.  
  
"We probably ought to get moving on defense and state, then," Richard said.  
  
Those conversations didn't go very far, as they were soon sidetracked. Regina Keller turned out to be the sticking point once again. Richard was all for making her secretary of commerce; Lizzy and others were unconvinced. "She's a great legislator," Lizzy pointed out. "If we pull her out of the Senate, I'm sure we'll wind up with another Democrat in her seat, but it won't be someone with her depth of experience. Besides, there's reason to believe Senator Masters is going to step down before the next Congress is sworn in."  
  
"Seriously?" Charlotte said.  
  
"Right now it's just a rumor, but it's coming from a couple sources I'm inclined to trust," Lizzy replied. "I think we're likely to see some stories out of Boston soon. Rumor has it his wife is sick."  
  
The President-elect frowned. "Lizzy, do what you can to find out, okay? I certainly don't want to look like we're taking advantage of something like that, but I don't want to be caught off-guard either."  
  
"Of course. There's a guy at the  _Globe_  who owes me a favor."  
  
"Do I want to know?" Will asked.  
  
"I doubt it."  
  
"So we think Keller is elected majority leader if Masters retires?" Richard asked.  
  
"She's made no secret that she'd like to be," Charlotte remarked. "I've never heard of her having aspirations to a Cabinet post."  
  
"So what you're telling me is she might turn us down and might have turned us down back in the summer."  
  
"You could take it that way, yes."  
  
Richard grumbled, but moved the meeting back to the agenda.  
  
That afternoon Lizzy talked to a dozen reporters who all wanted to know about Cabinet appointments. "I hear it's Sloan for transportation," Roy from CBS said.  
  
It  _was_  Sloan for transportation, but Lizzy was in a mood to play. "Yes, Governor Sloan owns an old VW Beetle, and we need that for the clown act of the circus we're putting together," she replied.  
  
"So that's a no on Sloan?"  
  
"That's a 'what part of "no comment" are you tripping over today?' on Sloan."  
  
"Any news on a secretary of defense?" the new guy from Reuters asked.  
  
"Yes. We're going to have one."  
  
"Lizzy..."  
  
"You guys used to find me charming, you know."  
  
"We still do," Elena of the AP said. "But our editors don't find you charming when we don't have anything to file."  
  
"You have things to file!" Lizzy protested. "I did a whole song and dance this morning about hiring Miriam Schultz for legislative affairs."  
  
"Our readers don't care about that," Roy said, annoyed.  
  
"Yes, well, I'm not talking about Cabinet posts until we've made actual decisions." Lizzy raised a hand to forestall the immediate protests. "I can, however, share with you that at the wedding, the groom and groomsmen will be wearing boutonnières of narcissus."  
  
There was a moment of silence before, unexpectedly, Kevin from MSNBC raised his hand. "Yes, Kevin?"  
  
"Should we read anything into the choice of narcissus for this particular groom?"  
  
Lizzy bit back a smile. "I don't know what you mean."  
  


* * *

  
When she had a moment to think about it—which wasn't often—Margaret reflected that her life was becoming something very strange. In the summer all the windows in their house in Madison were replaced with bulletproof glass by the Secret Service. Now they were building a higher fence and a guardhouse on the property. She hadn't been alone in any meaningful way since the convention, and she didn't imagine that would change until after she was out of office.  
  
Even now, a full month after the election, Margaret still sometimes marveled that this had actually happened. She wasn't in the habit of questioning her own sanity, but it did seem like this ought to be a dream she should have woken from already. She confided that once to Lizzy, who quelled her immediate look of panic and asked her not to say that in front of cameras.  
  
She was living in the mansion of a wealthy Democrat in Washington until the inauguration. The children were still in Madison with Ed and his parents until Jack's Christmas break, which wasn't easy, but at least that would only be another week and a half. She was looking forward to having her family all in the same time zone again.  
  
In a rare minute unscheduled, Margaret stood in the sort of foyer to the master suite, wondering a little at its owner and why anyone would need so much house. Ed, who was only in town for two days, found her standing there and smiled. "I suppose you should have seen me when I met the staff at the Residence," he said. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."  
  
"You could say that again." Margaret sighed and leaned against him when he wrapped his arms around her. "What else are you doing during this trip?"  
  
"We have to look at schools for Jack," he said. "I talked to Jane. She found a couple hours in your schedule tomorrow."  
  
"How are the kids dealing with the Secret Service details?"  
  
"Jack thinks it's a great adventure. Hannah threw a fit at Agent Keene when she stopped her from trying to scale the new fence."  
  
"Well, that won't end well."  
  
"Probably not. Are we still thinking about preschool for her?"  
  
Margaret sighed. It was actually rather nice to talk about normal things like this for a change, even if it did have a special twist somewhere. "She won't make the cutoff for kindergarten next year. I suppose we might as well wait, or at least not subject some poor preschool to the Secret Service every day this year."  
  
"Well, you've got that universal pre-k thing proposed. We probably should have her in school a couple days a week."  
  
"That's a good point."  
  
Ed squeezed her a little tighter. "There for a minute we were almost normal."  
  
She laughed. "I don't care if we do have maids at the White House, the kids are picking up after themselves. We sure won't have maids at home."  
  
"We'll work on it." He kissed her neck and let her go. "Where are you off to?"  
  
"I have no idea," Margaret admitted. "I think it's something to do with the National Labor Relations Board. No, that's not right. I have no idea."  
  
Ed smiled. "I thought maybe if you had a minute tonight, we could come up with something to get Lizzy and Will."  
  
"I suppose I shouldn't staff that out."  
  
He pursed his lips. "No."  
  
"I still can't believe they're getting married," Margaret said, moving into the bedroom proper and sitting on the loveseat near the door. Ed joined her. "After what happened between them last February..."  
  
"I know," Ed replied. Then his exp ****ression turned thoughtful. "Do you remember that huge fight we had maybe three months after we started dating?"  
  
She laughed. "I forgot about that."  
  
"We didn't talk for what, three weeks? We managed to pull everything out of the fire, though."  
  
"You're telling me there's hope for them?"  
  
"I think they love each other," he said, pulling her to lean against him. "Most people might not have come out of an environment like a campaign with a healthy relationship, but I don't think Will and Lizzy are like most people. They'll be fine."  
  
Margaret nodded and touched his chest. "Then we should get them something nice."  
  
He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "Yes, yes, we should."  
  


* * *

  
Years later, when her own daughter was married at the house in Pemberley, Lizzy would look back at her wedding and think she had done it the right way after all. In the end, the only things she really cared about were the people there to see this day and who was holding her hands as she promised to have and to hold for the rest of her life. She didn't pick the music or have much say in the decorations, and it didn't matter to her.  
  
At practically the last minute, she  _had_  found the right dress. In simple cream silk, it had a tea-length full skirt, three-quarter sleeves, and a draped neck. She decided to forego a veil, instead wearing the tiara her mother wore at her second wedding. Will's sister Gigi loaned her a string of pearls that had belonged to Anne Darcy. With a pair of very dark blue heels and a bouquet of red and white amaryllis in hand, she was ready.  
  
Jane and her sister-in-law Joanna were her bridesmaids; her stepfather David walked her down the aisle. "He was really touched, you know," Joanna said to her in a quiet moment that morning. "That you asked him to do this."  
  
Lizzy smiled wistfully. "There was never anyone else who would do," she replied honestly. She had sent invitations to various Benoit relatives but without expectations that any would come, least of all her father.  
  
Before the ceremony was to start, she stood next to her stepfather and thanked him. "I can't imagine what my life would be like if you and Mom hadn't met," she said. "You've been the best father I could have had."  
  
Looking a little teary-eyed, David leaned over and kissed her forehead. "You were just as much a gift to the boys and me as your mother was, Princess."  
  
In front of them, Jane and Joanna turned around. "Would you two stop!" Joanna said. "You're going to make everybody cry!"  
  
That had the desired effect, and when the doors opened, Lizzy was laughing.  
  
They had decided to use the library, where Will had given her the ring, for the ceremony. On one end of the room, mahogany panels folded back to open into the old parlor on the other side. The reception would be down in the banquet room used by most couples getting married in this house, but they had decided to use this part, in the family wing. The morning sun made the room glow, and Lizzy knew they had made the right choice.  
  
She hugged her stepfather before they walked down the aisle together to Will, waiting with his groomsmen, Richard and Chuck. The look on Will's face put a huge smile on Lizzy's. All the stress of the transition and the campaign before it were gone. All that mattered was the life before them.  
  
The ceremony was brief, neither bride nor groom seeing a need for a long one. The minister of the church where Will grew up spoke about the commitment they were making and offered a beautiful, heartfelt prayer. Gigi recited poetry, her lyrical voice rich and sweet. Then Lizzy and Will made their vows to each other, exchanged rings, and shared their first kiss as husband and wife.  
  
When the pictures were taken and they joined the guests down in the banquet room, Lizzy discovered that Will had planned a surprise for her. Her grandparents were there along with Aunt Aurélie and her cousin Thierry. It was all she could do not to cry as the photographer took pictures of her and Will with them. After that, she threw her arms around Will and kissed him soundly. "How did you..."  
  
He smiled, looking as happy and at ease as she'd ever seen him. "I knew you weren't really expecting them to be able to come," he replied. "Thierry turns out to be a good conspirator."  
  
"You ridiculous man," she said, feeling once again that she might cry. "I love you so much."  
  
He cupped her face and kissed her. "I love you too, Mrs. Darcy."  
  
Officially she was using Bennet Darcy for the time being, but she did like hearing him say that.  
  


* * *

  
They went to the Outer Banks for their honeymoon. Everything was closed, but it hardly mattered to Will. He and Lizzy took long walks everywhere, and he pointed out the places he had visited as a boy, places he wanted to take his own children someday.  
  
They talked and talked, more than the reticent Will would have thought possible. Since their reconciliation in April, he had made a point to communicate more. Now that he'd had married her, made a promise to love and cherish her and only her, the words were there in a way he'd never imagined. In the evenings they would sit together quietly in front of the fireplace, Lizzy reading about some obscure historical event while he worked on the inaugural address. Then Lizzy would close her book, touch his shoulder, and kiss him, and he would be lost to everything but his wife.  
  
In the afterglow of making love to her, his wonder always returned. He could not fathom how the woman in his arms had come into his life. He had just wanted a campaign spokesperson who could speak coherently. What he had found in that office in Los Angeles was so much more. She was nothing short of remarkable, and Will knew he was going to spend the rest of his life in adoration of her.  
  
The last night of their honeymoon was different somehow, more eager, more frantic, as though their bodies knew their lives were about to return to warp speed. But long after Lizzy fell asleep, he lay awake despite his own exhaustion, thinking of everything and nothing as the hours wore on.  
  
Eventually Lizzy stirred next to him. "Hey," she said, sounding confused. "Why are you awake?"  
  
"No idea," he replied, letting out a yawn suddenly.  
  
She giggled quietly, turning to kiss his cheek. "I do love you sometimes."  
  
"Only sometimes?"  
  
"Well, other times you can be terribly vexing."  
  
"I think you love me best then," he said, rolling over to face her. When she raised a brow in silent challenge, he added, "That's when you get to use words like 'vexing.'"  
  
"What about you?" she asked, even though she rolled her eyes at him. "When do you love me best?"  
  
"Now," he said, clasping their hands and kissing the rings she wore for him, "when you roll your eyes at me. When you make me laugh. When you prove Richard wrong." There she smiled. "When you forgave me for..."  
  
Lizzy covered his mouth with her free hand. "None of that, William."  
  
He pulled her closer, seeking comfort in having her skin against his. They lay quietly for a while, breathing together, until finally Lizzy loosed her hand from his and let it trail up to his shoulder. "What were you thinking about when I woke up?" she said. "You looked like you were concentrating."  
  
"Oh," he said, remembering. "I was writing."  
  
She pushed herself up on one elbow, looking terribly amused. "It's the last night of our honeymoon, and you were writing while in bed with me?"  
  
"I can write any time, darlin'." When she raised a brow at him again, he merely lifted the hand still on his shoulder and brought it to his lips. While he turned them both over and began trailing kisses up her arm, he began to recite the words that had come to him in the dark. "We have a responsibility," he murmured, "to seek a better purpose, a greater justice, a deeper righteousness." When his kisses reached her ear, he let his voice drop further. "A more perfect union."  
  
She let out a trembling sigh, and he allowed himself a tiny, satisfied smirk.  
  
Two weeks later, on January 20, Lizzy blushed when President Gardiner got to that sentence in the speech, but curiously, no one but Will seemed to care why.  
  


* * *

  
_Ten years later_  
  
Their daughter was now the same age Jack Gardiner was when his mom was elected. For some reason, that bit of trivia kept sticking in Lizzy's head as they headed to the Capitol. The last time she talked with the Gardiner kids, Jack was saving up for his first car.  
  
Lizzy had stayed at the White House longer than most press secretaries, sticking it out through the second campaign. By Election Day she was six months into a pregnancy that came as a shock to the Darcys but probably shouldn't have. The baby was born three weeks early, a few hours before the President was sworn in again. They named her Margaret as they watched President Gardiner give her second inaugural on the television in Lizzy's hospital room, the baby sleeping in Will's arms.  
  
In the next six months, Lizzy did a lot of television appearances, and she found herself the focus of intense interest among the party in Illinois. She and Will had never really talked about moving to the Chicago area, at least not until the third time someone suggested she might consider running for office.  
  
"Is it something you want?" Will asked her late one night as they were cleaning up the kitchen.  
  
"I don't know," she told him. "It was, but my life isn't just about me anymore."  
  
They stayed in Washington until the next State of the Union address, after which Will tendered his resignation and they moved to Chicago. When Meg was two, Lizzy threw herself into the political scene in northern Illinois. Then, after James was born, the state's senior Senator announced his retirement, and a few months later, Lizzy announced her candidacy.  
  
James was two now, and he woke up as Will got him out of his car seat. "Jamie-boy," Will said as he started to cry. "Time to cowboy up, little guy. It's Momma's big day, and there's no crying in politics."  
  
Lizzy came around the car then, holding Meg's hand. "I cried on election night," she pointed out.  
  
"That's true," Will said, bringing her in for a brief kiss. "Oh, right, there's no crying in  _baseball_."  
  
Hand in hand they walked to the Capitol building. They were met at the steps by the new senior Senator from Illinois, who accompanied them up. "How's your first day going, Lizzy?" Senator Wycliffe asked.  
  
"Oh, Meg had a wardrobe crisis this morning, and then James tried to eat Will's tie," Lizzy said brightly. "Pretty normal so far."  
  
Wycliffe grinned. "Well, the caucus is happy to have you. Sixty-seven points, and you carried the suburbs! Will, did you know she had it in her?"  
  
"I've been married for ten years," Will said dryly. "What do you think I'll say?"  
  
"Good answer," Wycliffe said, clapping Will on the back.  
  
Lizzy had a meeting first, during which Will decamped with the children to his uncle's office. He joined her later without the kids while she waited to be sworn in. "I should have kept my maiden name," she said when Will rubbed her back. "They do this in alphabetical order."  
  
"Oh, please," said Wycliffe, who was waiting to go into the chambers with Lizzy. "I was the last one sworn in when I was elected the first time."  
  
There was no photography allowed on the Senate floor, so Lizzy went in with only Senator Wycliffe to accompany her. When she came out afterward, she found her husband and kids sitting with Jim Fitzwilliam. "Lizzy!" the older man said. "Excuse me: Senator Darcy. You look fantastic, kid."  
  
Lizzy hugged her husband's uncle affectionately. "You aren't going to call me 'kid' in front of my new colleagues, are you?"  
  
"Only on special occasions."  
  
That afternoon, Lizzy took the oath again, this time for cameras in the old Senate chambers. Her family joined her this time. While Will held James, Meg solemnly carried the Bible. As they waited for the newspaper photographers to set up, the Vice President leaned down to speak to Meg. "Are you helping us out today?"  
  
She nodded. "This is Momma's Mémère's Bible."  
  
"That's right," Lizzy said, laying her hands on Meg's shoulders. "It was one of the only things Mémère brought out of France during the war."  
  
"That's very precious, then," the Vice President said. "You need to take care of it, young lady."  
  
Wide-eyed, Meg nodded.  
  
The photographers indicated they were ready, and the Vice President asked Meg to hold up the Bible. Lizzy placed one hand on it and raised the other, and with a small smile she took the oath of office once again.  
  
Afterward, they posed for a few pictures, and Will kissed Lizzy's temple. "I'm proud of you, darlin'," he said.  
  
She smiled up at him. "Now the hard part starts."  
  
"Yeah, but the hard part is your favorite part."  
  
"Yours too." Despite the photographers still snapping away, Lizzy stretched up and kissed him softly. "It's where we do the most good, and that's all you and I have ever wanted to do."


End file.
